


Silent Fire

by quasargoddess4652



Category: Batman (Comics), Batman - All Media Types, Batman and Robin (Comics), DCU (Comics)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Angst and Feels, Bullying, Child Neglect, Damian Wayne Feels, Damianangstsquad, Depression, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Gen, Heavy Angst, I'm Bad At Tagging, Self-Esteem Issues, Self-Harm, Slow Burn, Suicidal Thoughts, other random characters - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-06-28
Updated: 2019-02-27
Packaged: 2019-03-27 20:33:23
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 19
Words: 66,467
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13888620
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/quasargoddess4652/pseuds/quasargoddess4652
Summary: The only thing Damian wanted was to make his family proud of him. However, he always seems to deter himself from this goal. No matter how hard he tried, it would never be enough to satisfy himself or others. The constant annoyance seems to drive everyone away and Damian takes notice to it.Why is he still here?Damian was like a rose, with a thick veiny stem twisting and turning, protected by razor sharp thorns lingering on the surface. If not treated with caution, one could easily prick themselves causing crimson liquid to trickle down their fingers. But, at the end of that leafy green stem is an array of petals painted in multiple shades of wine and scarlet. The strikingly magnificent components are meticulous crafted into a plump sweet smelling flower. In order to maintain this heavenly appearance, it must be properly cared for, and given a great sum of love and affection.So what if the rose is neglected? What if a pair of hedges it taken to it, snipping the stem and leaves off perversely? Will the rose survive?I'm bad at summaries, ha





	1. Hatred:proliferation

**Author's Note:**

  * For [My friend](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=My+friend).



> Hey this is my first time writing a fanfic so I hope people enjoy it. :) 
> 
>  
> 
> A friend wanted me to write this and I liked the idea so here you go. 
> 
> Probably ooc but... I don't really care. Feel free to comment thoughts and suggestions.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Uneasiness

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> IMPORTANT: there may or may not be new chapter updates. Instead you might see previous chapters being updated with changes. You'll see this (*) if it has been updated

  
"Damian what's wrong?" The young boy's teacher cooed in concern for her student. Her pen rapped against the desk, drumming to get his attention. When he didn't respond she pulled the pen away and took a deep sigh,running her fingers through her loose brunette locks. Her gaze raced around the room looking for an idea, anything would do. Just as long as she got this boy out of her classroom.  
Unfortunately, nothing came to mind.

"Damian come on now you can't stay here all day. You have to go to lunch, I have prep period right now..." her voice was a little irritated at this point but the boy did not budge.

She had her fair share of incidents with the the raven haired child below her. She wasn't very fond of him particularly at all. The preteen would frequently try to show her up and prove her wrong every chance he got. He was stuck up and arrogant, but that's was what you would expect from a child of his status. Rich kids always seemed to think the world revolved aroundthem, however Damian was a different type of beast. Most children at this prep school at least showed common decency and manners to their superior, but Damian seemed to never catch on to it. Thinking of the horrible memories she had with the boy made her nostrils flair.

It's not everyday a student calls his teacher a stupid cow in front of the whole class for messing up on a math problem. Can mistakes not be made, and what kind of kids even does that to their teacher?? It's not like she ever called him out of his name, or tried to mess with him. She wasn't one of those sniper teachers that had their scope on kids to bother. He was always the first to make outbursts, mean comments and uncalled retorts. It was a constant struggle to get him in line. Day after day, he'd be sent back and forth from the disciplinary office to his class room. But with his billionaire father, he was always coming back to class for more. It was sickening to know the system had his back because of wealth. Everyone here the playing field wasn't even.

The Wayne child could get in trouble for numerous things. From insulting his classmates to getting into fights with other students. It was a never ending nightmare for the school. The kid quite simply had unquenched behavioral issues that developed from somewhere. But lately, his stunts were dwindling. There became fewer complaints and more peace and quiet. It was kind of strange; out of the couple months she had gotten to know Damian and his hot headed hubris temperament, it had finally stopped...But it could probably explain why the kid didn't pack up and leave when the bell rang.

The woman grabs the top of the legs of the desk and began to shake hard enough to get his attention but subtle enough to not get anyone to press charges.

"Come on Damian, you have to leave my class. I'm not playing anymore games with you! I know you don't like me and that's fine, but I'm not going to tolerate you disrespecting me like this anymore. Now up and at it!"

Usually her little rambles to the kid wouldn't even get eye contact from him, just a smirk of triumph for raising her blood pressure. Surprising the boy responded to her beck.The child raised his head steadily, and for one of the first times looked straight into his teachers eyes. It made her heart sink.

His ocean wave eyes were now like a murky oily color, shallow, and no longer filled with that fierce spark of raging energy. His eyelids were droopy like the dirty complexion of teabags. He balled up his hand into a fist which made her flinch back a little bit. But his small fingers were only used to wipe his sorry eyes.

The boy looked anything but pleasant which was a normal occurrence although, this was different. The woman let out a breath and pulled the chair from the desk next to Damian. She sat down and rested one hand on her lap and the other slide onto Damian's back rubbing small circles. Instead of lashing out and smacking her hand away, the boys eyes stayed fixed on his desk.

"Damian, what's been bothering you," she had a weary look on her face, "it's not like you to stay in this class longer than you have to." The cringeworthy pun put a strain in the back of her throat. Damian parted his lips, but only silence escaped his mouth. That empty look started to burn into her soul.

"Damian, I can't help you if you don't let me know what's wrong."

"I'm just.... tired." He stated in such a monotone that he sounded robotic.

"Are you sure there isn't anything else going on?" She mentally begged for a truthful answer.

"Yes," he turned and directed his sights to hers," I took the liberty of playing a new video game for too long. I had lost track of time, and stayed up all night to play it. That is all. I am sorry for intruding on your preparation time, but I'm perfectly fine. Can I be excused now??" His gaze had bubbled up from blank to a little annoyed.

"Oh... well sure. Yes. Go ahead Damian." Her face we now slightly pink.

"Thank you," with that, he removed himself from his seat out of her grasp and kneeled to the ground. He reached under his desk, picked up his belongings and pulled himself up.

As he made his way out of the classroom he was stopped one last time. "Alright Damian, you may have let yourself slip one time but you can't be sleeping in my class after this. This is your first and last time. It's extremely rude and irresponsible, I expect better from the top of the class." The boy just nods and made his way out of the room which surprised her even more.

  
~~~

  
Damian made his way down the hallway, his dress shoes clicked against the tiles. His books rested between his right side between his loose hanging arm, but his grip was rock solid. It was quiet, which was a double edged sword. He was left alone with his thoughts and bitter emotions. He wasn't sure what came over him in that classroom. Unexpected emotion erupted from the shadows causing this abrupt and unprepared for mood swing. It was as if something was eating him up inside slowly, almost motionless causing it to go unnoticed. He was a fortified house, reinforced with countless layers, and suddenly a couple of termites and roaches are spotted near the fridge.

But luckily no one was around to bother him. His mediocre angry layout had returned to his physiognomy. A lot of kids would say he looked like a little pit bull for how fired up his expression was all the time. Brows always bunched together and teeth gritted underneath his frown. Of course no one would say that to his face but he wasn't stupid enough to not be able to hear the gossip in school.

No one really liked Damian. Most kids couldn't stand to be around him, let alone talk to him. It wasn't for no reason, or for just being yourself. It wasn't like Damian was a dork or unattractive. The boy was top of his class without even breaking a sweat and he did give off that swagger glow the girls adored. But when the kid opened his mouth, you might as well be hearing a cat scratch a chalk board. No amount of black soap could stop this kid from speaking his mind.

Some kids wanted to be friends with him at first but he told them off and insulted there intelligence. Of course that got him sent down to the office after eight complaints were sent in. And of course word got around the school that he was a total ass hole. But that was just Damian...being Damian. He had grown up spiteful and bigoted, and wasn't the best at dealing with companions his own age. Better yet, this jack of all trades wasn't very skilled at dealing with people at all.  
   
He finally stopped in front of a string of blue metal compartments. A breath escaped his maw as he used his free hand to unscramble his locker combination. He glanced up to examine the metal door.

Clean.

  
He had remembered when some kids had wrote on his locker. Remembering some of the words splattered on it wasn't hard.

  
**Bully. Worthless. Smart ass. Annoying.**

  
The list went on. But it was ironic that someone was calling him a bully. They had vandalized _his_ locker. Early on, he found the retaliation of his peers more irritating than hurtful. It was crazy because he had gotten in trouble because of someone else destroying his locker! When Damian brought it up the school administrators, no one seemed to care as much when he was the one getting the short end of the stick.

His father had to come up to the school, sometimes he was accompanied by Dick. Bruce was indefinitely displeased when he got a phone call from the school, but Damian never seemed to care which disheartened his father's trust. Damian would argue and argue his side of the story but was always drowned out by the adults in the room. It couldn't be helped.

 _2...35..._ he dialed it to the last digit.

 _6_.

The door popped open and something fluttered out. His fast reflexed allowed him to grab it midway before it flopped to the ground. The mysterious object was a folded up piece up paper. Damian raised a brow and glared into the locker to find three more sitting at the bottom of the locker. His hand reached in a took the folds out and stuffed them in his dress pants. He took the first paper and unfolded it, briefing himself over the content. As he expected, it was more hate from his collages seeing that the first sentence was, "you're a horrible human being."

He didn't read the rest and crumpled up the paper, putting it with its brothers. He placed his books in the tall locker and began to dig and scavenge in his bag. His hand fumbled around in the sack until they landed on an energy bar. He wasn't in the mood for any of the school lunch, no matter how much of a budget they had for fine dining. The bar was particularly tasteless,but the blandness seized its purpose for providing him the energy he needed.

He shut his locker and scrambled the code up. People were pretty eager to break into his locker...He hated the poor security in the school, he was so used to the batman mechanics and al Ghul protocols that it drove him mad. But as stated before, it couldn't be helped.

He closed his eyes tightly and took a deep breath;this school was making him anxious. The mental, physical, and emotional restraints that played a role in his torment was suffocating. The mold his spiritual body had to contort into was mind rattling, nothing in was doing in this building was _normal_ for him. If he had learned anything from his mother, weakness was absolutely unacceptable. In spite of that however, the boy gave it his all to assimilate to his father's unorthodox world.

The young lad made his way towards the cafeteria.

"Hey Damian!" A high pitched voice mocked him. The sound of girlish laughter and giggling followed. Damian didn't bother to go along with this kid's teasing and kept walking.

"I know you heard me, you freak!" Damian glanced back to see the kid that was yelling for him and two other girls followed close behind. But he stuck to his decision and continued walking.  
"You can't just ignore me, creep!" The kid blurted.

"Watch me. You guys are pathetic. I can't believe idiots like you would waste your time following me around. " Damian hissed as the distance widened between them.

"Why you..." the boy huffed under his breath and ran towards Damian beginning his petty hunt. His fist accelerated and flew in the air, ready to strike the assassin on the back of his temple. But before the hit could connect, Damian gripped the boys arm tightly. His arm squirmed as the python grasp continued to choke the life out of his limb.

"Let me go! Let me go, Damian!" He cried, taking his other arm to pull Damian off of him.  
"With pleasure." Damian answered raising his leg and kicking the boy into the locker face first. The slam erupted in the air, causes the sound to carry through the halls.

"Ahhhh! Hey what the hell is your problem?! Are you fucking crazy!!" The kid coughed and hesitantly rubbed the side of his cheek. Damian looked down at the boy and slightly smirked. "I hope next time you guys won't be so idiotic. I'm surrounded by simple minded fools..."

"See this! This is the reason why everyone hates you. I don't care if you're Bruce Wayne's son. You're a piece of shit!"

"Yeah Damian, you didn't have to say all of that. You really are a jerk.." the girl butted in the masculine quarrel. Damian wavered between his adversary and the girls standing next to each other. To him he had provided justice and settled the dispute. He and brought honor to himself by fighting for his family's pride.

Shit... a familiar flash of white light was beaming in Damian direction. The girls had the audacity to record what he had put this kid through. Yeah the school had its own camera but the newest improved portable technology was destined to incriminate him. One of the girls waved her phone in the air. "I wonder what the school board is going to think of this?" She smirked

"Not to mention his parents." The other added and began typing away on her phone.

"They can do whatever they want. I don't. Care." Damian remarked shaking his head. The boy on the ground started to crawl away and the slither of mercy in Damian's heart, let him. "You really think you're so tough because you know how to fight and make fun of people. You deserve whatever punishment you get!" He whined.

"Me?!" The Wayne child's blood started to boil as his voice blasted flames. "You're the one that just proceeded to attack me first!"

"You threw me into a locker you prick!!" The kid winced. His body ached and his face still stung from Damian's wrath. He placed his cheek in his palm.

"What do you all get out of targeting me with your crap?! All I wish to do is to attend my classes and go home. I don't ask to be here as much as the next child."

"You think anyone is going to forgive you now? After all the stunts you've pulled?? You're not a good person and I think we have to right to show you that. Ever since you got here, right out the gate, you were giving your ass to kiss to _everyone_! And people say I'm mean! You always talk talk talk. Shit just spews out your mouth! Just shut up for once. God I don't even know how your dad deals with you. "

Damian turned and started to walk away again. He balled his hand into an earthy fist when he heard his father enter the conversation.

"And now look? You can't even face the truth. Run away why don't you! You're a spoiled kid that doesn't care about other people. You're fuckin weird! You're not normal like everyone else here. Even for someone in an upper class family, you can't even fit into that group right! If you think you're so much smarter than everyone else then just leave. We don't want you here. Nobody wants you here! It would be better if you were dead..."  
   
Damian was on the verge of running back and kicking the kid in his face, but reframed and repeated one of his fathers quote.

_Justice.... not vengeance..._

  
But the words got to him this time. There was finally a good crack in his armor. The prestige of the League, his mother, his grandfather, no longer draped over his shoulders. His youthful mentality was fleshy, cold, and exposed. Did people really think of him that way?

 

  
~~

 

  
   
Damian had always known people talked about him negatively, whether it was to his face or his back. But he'd usually just retaliate and not really bother to really dissect what was said to him. It's like someone pulled noise cancellers out of his ears, enabling him to hear everything. Every word, every insult. But now that he thought about it... these people weren't entirely wrong for treating him like this. He wasn't some victim that had never wronged a soul. He was an assassin, a killing machine. White as snow and pure was an element a child possessed, but Damian lived on an isolated island surrounded by the statistics of corpses floating in a vast sea of blood. A psychotic little boy that just happened to be batman's son. His personality wasn't all too great either. Mistakes couldn't get past him unless they were his own, but even those types of mistakes upset him. It was his genes to seek perfection with every task bestowed upon him, failure was never an option.

Damian sat silently pondering to himself as he waited on a school bench for Alfred. The trusty butler was always on time to pick the boy up from school, although he was never really comfortable with the routine of getting in the the car and riding home. Boredom was not an equalizer to the building hopping he was accustomed to. But now that Damian pressed his father so much to be more apart the Bat Family life, Bruce had told him it was part of the esthetic to blend into society.

Alfred was very potent on tidiness, organization and time management, so it was uncommon for him to be late. But maybe today was just one of those days. The passing of time itself was starting to eat Damian's insides. He wanted so desperately just to run off and fight someone or just train in general. Just something to clear his head. But arguing again with his father for disobeying was getting tiring, and he finally wanted to prove himself useful to the man. He's not all that bad right?

He reached into his pocket and pulled out the folded notes. There was nothing else to do outside alone on this bench anyway. Might as well read whatever these kids wrote. He knew he told himself not to bother with these kids anymore and focus on himself, but his past was catching up fast. He could not escape the damage he had caused. Curiosity got the best of him and he flipped open the paper.

  
_"This is a letter from all the kids from history. So if you think one person that has a problem with you then think again. Ever since you came to our school, you've been nothing but trouble. We don't know where you came from or why you decided to interrupt our lives, but go back to wherever you transferred from. The reason you have no friends is because you're a stuck up person who is mean to everyone around. None of the teachers like you and everyone knows why. Bet your daddy doesn't love you either. The only reason he puts up with you is because you're his kid. Or whatever orphanage he scooped you up from. So if you want to do anything right for this school, it's best to just leave and never come back_."

Damian huffed, put the paper back into his pocket and pulled out the next one. The reason he put himself through this? He wasn't entirely sure at that exact moment but something drove him to read the next letter.

" _Damian. I thought you were cute at first and cool. But now I know you're actually a huge jerk. I heard you rejected my friend in front of the whole lunchroom and told her she wasn't even pretty. That's a total jerk move and now I know why people don't like you. You hurt her feelings and she wouldn't stop crying for a week. I put this note in your locker because you seriously need to be put in your place. You've totally ruined this school. I hope you pay for messing with my friends. I don't care if you can fight really well, you're still going to get what's coming to you."_

Damian remembered that day and looking back at it, he was being a jerk but she kept bugging him. This was in the past, the whole situation was about three months ago. He didn't get why he was seeing this now. Damian was punished already and scowled by Dick, Bruce and all the other bat family members. He folded the paper up and put it back as well. The two letters already were a little heavy on his mind so he didn't want to read the one he previously crumpled up.

The letters weren't that bad... but knowing this was how people really felt about him made him question what he was doing wrong. No... this was dumb, kids just like to tease and joke around. That's what they did during this age.

Damian looked down the street in search of Alfred. To his surprise, what he saw was...

Nothing. Damian took a look at his watch. It had only been about ten minutes since he had sat down on the bench, but it felt like half an hour.

Another five minutes go by and there's still no sign of any cars pulling up to get him. All the other kids had cleared out by now and it was just him accompanied by the fresh spring breeze brushing between his lip and tickling his nose. It was calm and peaceful. He kind of liked it.

A quick buzz came from his pocket, followed by a short string of them. Maybe it was Alfred letting him know that he was going to be late. But that didn't make much sense for the man to text... or even spam his phone. Maybe it was his father... but that also didn't make sense because he was at work and there wasn't anything Damian knew that was planned for this time. Dick? Maybe.....?Tim? Definitely not, the boy hated his guts. Jason? No, he's not doing that. Barbara? Okay now you're just being ridiculous.

Damian picked up the phone and opened it. Notifications kept popping up with unfamiliar numbers at the top of the message. "What the hell...."

Damian opened up his text messages to see a stack of new notifications. Of course today would be the day that someone leaked his number. It was a cheap under protected phone, a stand in, but, this was just getting exhausting.

He put the ringer on do not disturb to not draw any attention on the ride home. The messages weren't going to stop anytime soon. Tracking down every single person who was texting him wouldn't have used up too much of Damian's time but causes anymore trouble would.

He opened up a couple of messages.  
Already off the back he got a picture of a bottle of Clorox with that caption that read **"you should drink this and die."**

Another said, **"our school would be so much better if you killed yourself."**

" _You're a weird kid for a Wayne."_ At least this one wasn't that bad. But it had a follow up of **" your family doesn't fucking love someone like you. You were a mistake. There was probably a hole in that condom."**

Damian bit his lip. His father never truly planned on having him, even if he was a test tube baby. His mother just wanted a soldier and he couldn't even do that right.

The next text read his mind.

**" you're a flaw that was never intended to exist."**

Yeah... he guessed that was true. It was drastically absurd how Damian started noticing how much people hated him.  
   
A sinking feeling started to weigh his chest down and he put his phone back into his bag. Looking at those text caused him to think about all he had done in a short time of little more than a decade. His mother wanted him gone and dropped him off suddenly with his father. His father didn't even want to take him in but his morals were too strong to deny the boy. It was ironic too. Batman was the a person that took in kids that were unwanted and made them into more than what they could ever dream of. He sculpted strangers, and took them under his wing. But when It came to his own son, his flesh and blood, Damian wasn't good enough to meet the boy wonder criteria.

Damian now thought it was obvious why people didn't like him... he was a brat and a pain to be around. He always bragged, especially to Tim and got into countless arguments about such futile debates.

"I can't believe this..." Damian scoffed at himself bitterly, but in a silent voice , " you're a trained assassin and you're getting worked up over silly emotions..."

He was never like this before, so why start now...? Why start caring about what other people thought? Maybe it's because of the kids at school. He hated that his father made him go to school to fit in. Before he was just little mister secret now he's the heir to the Wayne fortune. He'd do almost anything to get not existing in the public eye back... maybe not existing at all would be nice too.... But why care about what some random kids said to him, they weren't apart of his life. It wasn't as simple as hoped.

To Damian, those kids were kind of like hundreds of little shovels digging away at the sugar coating his family put up as a facade when handling him. This is how they really felt and their teachings and lectures were now unraveling in real life . It made him feel sick. He was a plague newly released into the world. His toxicity was vivid and seemed to consume his entire school, and the ones he loved.

The cloud above his head evaporated as he was awakened from his thoughts by a tap on the shoulder. Damian blinked and peered up. It stung to know that he had let his guard down that badly because of some childish thoughts. Luckily, it was just Alfred.

"Master Damian, I apologize for arriving a little behind schedule." The old man's apology was juiced with a well mannered dialect.

"It's alright Pennyworth." Damian had an apathetic response that was dry and unflavored. The boy grabbed his bag off the bench and made his way toward the polished vehicle. The butler responded by opening the passenger door and ushering the boy inside. He proceeded by looping around to the drivers seat.

Damian closes his eyes and let's body sink into the cushioned seat. The car starts up and the two head off towards the manor.  
"I'm Terribly sorry I was late Master Damian. The traffic on the way here was horrendous." He paused, looking in the mirror eyeing Damian. The child didn't seem to care, his sights were through the window, beaming intently.  
"What seems to be the matter, you look as if your mind is drifting off." Damian glanced over and crossed his legs.  
" just a rough day at school is all."

"Hm... I see."  
   
~~  
   
When Damian got to the manor he didn't really want to be around anyone at the moment. Alfred was probably preparing his afternoon snack, but he wasn't in the mood to eat. The weary boy made his way up the grand set of stairs that lay in the middle of the vast room of open space and fancy looking decorations. While Damian continued his ascend to his safe space, he could hear two familiar voices chattering below his form. The boy stopped and started to infiltrated what the people were saying. After all, his hearing was excellent, but right now was probably a good time to waste his quirk.

"Hey, you hear anything?" He could tell instantly that it was Tim.

"No...? Why, what's wrong?" Okay, that was Grayson.

"Exactly. I can't hear anything." Tim chirped placing a hand on Dick's shoulder.

"Okay, what's the joke." The older bird queried, not entirely sure where the conversation was headed.

"Alfred came back so I assume Damian came along with him. And I have to say, It feels unreal to not hear that kid's annoying voice." Tim chuckled with a delightful tone.

Dick sighed and shook his head. "Can't you say anything nice about him for once?"

"There isn't anything nice to say about that little demon in the first place. And I know you're enjoying this silence too, you don't have to lie about it."

"Yeah...I am, but that doesn't excuse the fact that you're bad mouthing him behind his back. He's just a kid."

"A kid that thinks he knows everything and never stops talking about it. I wish he would just shut up for once," Tim blurted.

"And guess what?"

"Your wish came true. I get it." Dick followed, " I know having Damian in our lives has been a hard adjustment. But we can't change the past. Although...if I'm being honest... I do like it when Damian is gone once and a while, it's a huge stress reliever."

Pink flushed across Damian's face, but his stance was frozen. He continued to buzz in on their conversation.

"I bet you do. I don't get how you can put up with him belittling you all the time. Yet, Bruce does nothing. The disrespect."

"It's not like he can put him in a timeout. He'd just break out—it's a trip for all of us to track him down and bring him back. Sometimes I wished Bruce just let him be for a bit. If he wants to be out in the streets of Gotham, then so be it."

"But the no kill rule..." Tim dragged.

"Yep." Dick wasn't very enthusiastic about his response but the two seemed to immediately connect over the conflict they were complaining about.

 _Damian_.

The conversation continued between the two former robins but the sound of their voices had carried off, indicating that they traveled to a different room.


	2. Words Stuck in my Throat

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Soft sadness

 

It was fairly silent, the low crackling of the flames in the fire place. Red and orange fell against the room as it illuminates all. Damian was left shaking between the four corners of wall he had squeezed himself in. He clutched his bedding, letting the warmth swallow his figure, while listening to the popping of the colorful blaze. He couldn't bring himself to cry.

No.

  
He wouldn't bring himself to cry. If anyone managed to see him in such a fragile state, their adjudication would be beyond embarrassing and infuriating. To the outside looking in, crying was an alien utterance for the serpent child. The remarkable passion for slaughter blindsided the core of his persona. Through the thick jungle like terrain and piles of ruby bodies was a child standing in the middle, after all.

Damian felt hatred towards himself, it pulsated through every vein and artery with no exit for escape. The gloomy liquid mazed his body in an endless loop of self doubt and shame. Out of the massive amount of things he hated, he was on top of the list by a huge lead. There wasn't anything he could do to make things right. Not with his peers, not with his family and most importantly, not with himself.

 

He glared up at the ceiling focusing on the finished paint stroked delicately on the surface above. There was nothing special above him but it felt like he was looking a window. An Empty and lackluster future beamed at him through that window. The wild child felt hands start to reach out for him. They had a firm feminine build that stroked his cheeks with a similar sense of stability and strength. The window was calling his name. He belonged up there in that blank meaningless ceiling.

He blinked the haze away and rolled over to his side grabbing his phone off the simple night stand. His face lit up with light emitting from his little box. Why is he diving back into this self torture? He could do a million and one other things, but decides to go back to the cesspool in his phone.

_57 new messages...._

Damian buried his face into his cylinder pillow and opened up the application.

**"Everyone hates you."**

**"Kys smart ass."**

**"Ur a huge dick, u know that?!"**

**"No one fucking likes you satan's child."**

That was a new one.  
The kids were getting cleverly crafty with their cyber bullying. A lot of the messages had somewhat of a trend going on.

 ** _#deaddamian_**  

He had counted at least thirty four messages that had that hashtag in it. How could all these people be bold enough to send him all this filth. Bruce Wayne could get that school bulldozed to the ground if he wanted to. But, those kids must have known that no one was on his side. Or, they were at least confident enough in their hypothesis to carry out this inhuman experiment.  
   
Okay, okay, okay. Damian got the point. No one in his life loves him. No one wants him around. No one wants to be bothered by him. The boy understood that...and he accepted it. Nonetheless, he needed to find the leaky pipe within himself, if he ever planned on fixing the mistake that he was. But where could he even start? Did he have anything to even fix it with?  
Of course not. If he had something that could fix his attitude, his mind set, his behavior and all the other numerous flaws, he wouldn't be such a mess.

"Maybe this is all coming from this morning." Damian murmured to himself. Waking up in a bad mood could ruin anyone's day, and possibly be the source of his moodiness. But, this wasn't a sudden one day mishap; he was aware that he had been dwindling in spirit over the past couple of weeks. He was growing Increasingly susceptible to the teasing and taunting. Mentally was meant to be thick like alligator skin to survive in such a could world, so then why did he feel his scales falling off? It sickened him.

Despicable.

  
Deciding that he had moped in his room long enough, he heads downstairs to link with his _family_ ; the people he was still struggling to adapt to, to fit himself in the puzzle without breaking the whole thing. He discovered he was apt at trying to force a puzzle piece in a spot it did not belong, and eventually destroying all of the hard work everyone had contributed before he came along. All the pieces, now missing and scattered widely over the floor, the creation is ruin thanks to one uncooperative piece.

However, he had spent a good couple of hours dolefully lying in his bed without his usual penchant to spare or train. Truthfully, it freaked him out a little bit. How could he just undermine his own instincts that quickly, and without debate?

The massive house was quiet. The array of portrait windows soaked up the cool splotches of blue that seeped into the manor. It was eerily still as if the place was abandoned. Damian sauntered into the kitchen to find no one there. Yet, a petit tray of crispy apple chips wrapped neatly in transparent plastic wrap sat on the marble island.

It was too quiet for any soul to be creeping around inside. He was left home alone, with the exception of the pets, but they didn't present themselves in the area either. Although the Wayne's were closed for the day, Batman was probably preparing for the night. Damian found the old grandfather clock rotating the hands to 10:48. Once granted entry he proceeds into the undergrounds beneath him.

As the boy expected, the gang was gathered in the Bat Cave. Alfred, Tim, Dick, and his father. Damian folded his arms and approached the group, his lips thin.

"Look who decided to join us. Hey Little D." Dick playfully mocked. Everyone except Bruce who was typing away on the Bat computer, turned and faced him. Tim and Dick weren't wearing their mask exposing their faces, but the rest of their uniform was ready for action. Their dark hair was given a chance to breath for once. And Alfred was well... dressed as Alfred. Damian assumed his father was doing the same thing as the two boys.

"It's good to see you up master Damian." Alfred noted.

"Where were you all this time, demon spawn? You missed Jason." Tim sniffed. Dick responded to the comment by whipping an elbow in his side, getting a quick hey from Tim.

"Mind your own business Drake." The spitfire barked, " But if you are that concerned, I was taking a nap."

"When have you ever done that? The only thing you do, is tear up the sparing equipment when you get home. I didn't see you as the napping after school type."

The sidekick conversation was suddenly interrupted by the big man himself.The low monotone in his voice caught the attention of everyone, "He was probably trying to avoid me." Bruce stated unemotionally.

Dick and Tim were now staring at Damian waiting for him to explain. Damian chocked ,a little overtaken by the statement. "Why would I be hiding from you father?" Damian huffed, getting himself riled up. He hadn't seen this father all day and he was already being accused of something.

"You know what you did Damian." Bruce snapped back. The coldness in his voice pierced the air.

"No I don't. I have not done anything to disobey you. I've done nothing wrong!"

"Are you telling me you didn't throw a kid into a locker at your school?" Bruce lifted himself up from the chair to face his young son. The man didn't quite tower over the kid but the dominance was established quickly. Bruce had a stern austere expression; his ridged lapis eyes harshly bore into his son. The room went quiet and all eyes were on him now. Dick had a pity look on his face which made Damian ever so slightly shrink in on himself .

He hesitated before answering, " those kids were pestering me!" Damian yelped. His knuckles were turning white as his hands clamped tightly.

"You can not keep saying that and then assault your classmates! I don't care if they were bothering you! I'm tired of all these grievances coming from your school! Why can't you do the simplest thing I ask of you. Just go to school and don't cause any trouble!" Bruce clapped back;his voice had gone from around a two to an eight, but rounded out with authority and without misinterpreted emotions.

"No! This is entirely unfair! I don't—" Damian was cut off by Bruce.

"NO! You don't get to speak, listen for once! Just. Listen! Why do I have to be interrupted at work to find out that my son is slamming kids into lockers!! Not only that, but the child's family is trying to press chargers! Now I have to go up to your school tomorrow to work things out..." Bruce massaged the bridge of his nose.

"Just do what you always do, you're a billionaire." Damian knew that wasn't a very intelligent thought but he spat something out to defend himself.

"That's not the damn point Damian! When will you learn, that your actions have consequences. When are you going to learn that you can't solve all your problems with blunt force and insults. I'm tired Damian. I really am. Yet you keep piling more problems onto this family!"

"Father, I can explain. Let me express my concerns."

"No Damian." The answer was firm. "I'm done listening to your childish excuses to act the way you do. You want me to treat you like an adult, but continue to act immature. I'm done playing these games with you. I am revoking you from all Robin activity as of right now. No costume. No patrol. No fighting." The eldest Wayne berated his orders.

Damian searches the hollow cave for support, anyone to have his back. But, he only received blanks stares and disappointment.

" AHH! YOU CAN'T DO THIS!" Damian squeaked stomping violently on the ground. Bruce answered with an authoritarian iron fist," I'm your father Damian. You will do as I say."  
   
"Uh-oh." Dick muttered, and took a breath, " I guess this means no patrol tonight."

The pressure blankets Damian and he folds his arms. His face began to deepen in color and his brows ruffled as he bit back a rebuttal. It didn't matter what he said, no one would listen. _Just shut up..._ there was no use fighting his father's wishes. Well there was— he could disobey what his father commanded him to do. He could take the robin suit out and run through the streets of Gotham killing criminals, go back to school and follow through with more mischievous and rambunctious behavior, and argue with his father one more time.

But.

That would only prove everyone right; that he was a spoiled, worthless, and ungrateful brat that didn't know when to take no for an answer. But he was none of those things and will stop at nothing to prove them all wrong. He would become everything his father wanted, and more.

He felt his normal red aura slip from his body,sending chills down his back, and leaking down his pant legs. No longer feeling the need to get the last word in, Damian turned around to exit the Batman Cave. If he removed himself the gray clouds ruining the atmosphere would surely lift. The bats were certainly fed up with the boy as well.

The dust settled as the remaining members of the bat family members excluding Bruce, watch the boy walk away in silence.

"Huh." Tim finally broke the silence which was sort of on the positive side. "He didn't put up much of a formidable battle against that."

"Bruce, did he really do that in school?" Dick glanced to his former partner in worry. Yes, Damian was one to act out but nothing like this had happened before.

"Yes." Bruce answered simply.

"Master Damian didn't mention anything about fighting when I picked him up. What do you think caused it?" Alfred inquired.

"That's what I'm going to find out tomorrow."

"Knowing Damian, he probably got pissed that the kid look at him the wrong way." Tim smirked.

" I don't know, he seemed kind of quiet." Dick had a tiny feeling of unease inside.

"Maybe he finally sees that he's been acting like a brat all this time."

"You should sit Damian down;have a father to son conversation with him,Bruce." Alfred warned.

"Now isn't a good time, Alfred." The butler gave him a quick scowling which caused Bruce to give in with a sigh." I'll see what I can do after patrol."

  
~~~  
 

After the run in with his father, Damian decided to go back into hiding. "UGH!" Damian shouted and throw his fist into the wall leaving the material depressed and crackled. A small hole was now near his bed side. His hand throbbed when he tug it out the wall. A rosy red color blossomed onto his knuckles, he would soon be seeing spring violets resting on his hand.

Damian felt so pent up and—and... and furious! How could his father just brush him off like that!

"I DID NOT START THIS! AHHH! THIS IS SO UNJUST! WHY WON'T YOU LISTEN TO ME!" He yelled out loud but no one was listening. The boy was alone in his room, yelling at the hole in the wall. Damian snorted reframing from his previous episode of rage, "...I'm just a boy who cried wolf..." his voice dozed into a decrescendo as he plopped onto his bed.

Once again, the fizzing soda had exploded out of its bottle dripping all over the floor. It was always a sticky mess for someone else to clean up. But at the end of the day, that can was empty after it's entrails spilled out.

Damian felt like he was experiencing mood swings he couldn't control. It made him feel pathetic and weak and ready to curl up into to ball. But at the same time he just wanted to yell and scream and just burst in indignation. He felt vexation on all sides of the spectrum. When you're on the verge between worrying if you can please the ones you care about enough for them to do the same, and just wanting to smash their heads in, you tend to be in great turmoil with your emotions.

It's like he had two halves to himself. On one hand you had the chaotic dog that brought fear and terror wherever it went. A black Rottweiler foaming out the mouth barking at everyone that passed it. Sometimes it gets off its leash and attacks unsuspecting victims leaving them with bloody limbs and teeth marks. But with that aggressive ill tempered dog, trainer and owners tend to neglect them. No socialization and no home training.

Then that lead to the other side he had. His sappy gooey pile of crap. An amalgam of his anxieties, his sadness, his doubts, and other emotions fused together in a constant struggle of chaos. That yearning side that just wants to be useful and appreciated. That strong imbuing feeling to try to be accepted. He wanted his grandfather and mother's approval. But that was quickly thrown out the window. He wanted his father to love him and see him as a useful tool in the fight for justice. To be like him. But he had stomped on that at the beginning. That's the only thing he ever wanted. But the light was so far away and his arms were too tired to paddle towards it.

But that stupid fucking dog. It ruined everything all the fucking time. Sometimes he wish he could snaps it neck. Why couldn't it just fucking die, because it would never stop.

_Just....._

_Stop..._

Two sides on the same coin.  
Never before had Damian felt so tired to be awake at such an early time as 9:00 pm at night. The boy was a walking battery and rarely slept on time. He was alert and prepared for everything, but this day was different. Maybe his mental state was just that exhausted that he needed to take a break.

_'I should take a shower and take then sleep.'_

  
Damian thought, getting his clothes together and heading to the bathroom. As he settled into the bathroom he dialed the faucet to the right to allow hot water to sprinkle against the enameled porcelain. Levitating steam enfolded the bathroom while he disrobed himself.

Damian stared at the water twinkling down the drain. A constant tapping of droplets from the shower head filled his ears as he stepped into the tub. His form plummeted onto the bottom of the bath,clutching a bar of soap, his eyes focused on the drain. The water is disappearing into the small holes. It seemed so easy to just get rid of the dirt and grim and just wash it away. Let it escape into the drain to leave his exposure clean. His thoughts, his soul, his emotions, the water just carried it away.  
Damian arms slowly clasped against his legs holding them close to his chest. He sat there and stared. His eyes grew still.  
   
When Damian got out the shower the stream engulfed the air. Even with all that water and soap he was still dirty. The shower did only so much to clean him. He guessed that was okay but that grime that was wiped away now, would only be replaced later. Not even a shower could cleanse him enough to take the blood, dirt, and soot off of him. Maybe nothing was enough.

His gray tank top and black sweat pants were comfortable enough for tonight. To finish off the look, he slid some white socks on. The lights needed to be turned off, otherwise his ascend into slumber would take longer than desired. So he turned it off and crawled into his bed.  
   
Before he knew it, there was a knock at his bedroom door. This only caused him to roll over to the other side of his bed, facing the window. Perhaps if he didn't answer the person would go away. But that assumption was foolish and wrong because he received another beat against the wooden entrance.

" _Damian_." He didn't respond.

" _Damian_." The boy rolled his eyes and placed a pillow over his head hoping the drown out the noise.

The door knob toggled and clicked open.  
"Damian, are you awake?"

"WHAT?! Father." Damian burst from his blanket cocoon gripping the sheets in annoyance. He knew his father's voice from anywhere.

Bruce flipped the light switch on to see his son clearer. " I just want to talk ." He stated impassively.

"Why?! What is there to talk about? You've already made your case; just leave me alone," Damian sassed and dove back under the covers. He heard an exhale come from outside the sheets.

"I think this is something you need to hear." Damian was alarmed when a force squeezed against the sheets, pulling the covers slightly away him in. He peeked his head out to find his father resting on the edge of his bed.

"Okay, what?!" Damian spat and slithered up into a sitting position.

"I know I came across inhospitable earlier, and that's only because you haven't been acting like you've learned anything. In fact, it seems like you are getting worse."

"And how am I getting worse?" Damian challenged.

"You are turning back to old habits. And it's one thing to pull your little stunts with criminals but now you've taking it out on children. Your fellow classmates, the same people we've sworn to protect," Bruce's lecturing was beginning to give Damian a headache, " if you're going to be harboring this type of anger to the point that you lash out on innocent people, then I can't trust you to be a robin."

"I was only defending myself!" The sudden burst of pique caused him to bang his fist against the sheets. Bruce placed his hands on his son's causing Damian to snatch away quickly. Damian grunted aggravation as Bruce eyed him down.

"It's hard for me to believe that you're just defending yourself. For someone that boasts about being a trained assassin, I don't think these kids shouldn't be giving you much trouble."

"But I was! Why can't you take my word for this."

"Damian, defending yourself is restraining someone to the ground with control, not kicking them into a locker. In your case you should have tried to get an adult before engaging with them. It would be easier to see this as an accident if this was your first offense but we both know there has been numerous complaints about you."

"Those were different! And I can take care of myself just fine. I don't need you to tell me how to deal with other people. My methods are fine on their own. I got the job done." Damian quick response of confidence completely misdirected his real concerns.

"This is the problem. You think you know everything and this is what gets you in these situations. I can promise you won't be touching that robin suit in a long time if you keep acting like this. I don't even want you near that training room until you learn to control your emotions; the world doesn't revolve around you. You're too reckless which makes you a liability."

"I made a mistake, but I thought people made those all the time! Weren't you the one that told me it was okay to mess up?? I bet if I were Grayson or Drake you wouldn't say anything," Damian growled.

"Mistakes only happen once or twice not constantly. Theses aren't mistakes these are behavioral issues." Bruce closed his eyes in contemplation, " I don't know what to do with you."

" I don't need you! I can take care of myself so you don't have to _do_ anything!"

"If that were true I wouldn't receive complaints from your school."

" You wouldn't get complaints if you weren't a terrible wannabe father!"

Bruce glared and got up from his son's bed. " I'm not going to argue with you any longer." The statement seemed incomplete. Damian saw this look in his eyes, like he was fighting back the urge to truly express what he wanted to say. The boy watched as the man went to exit the room. Before he left he glanced over at Damian's little mishap in the wall but didn't say anything. Instead, he left the room and closed the door.

He felt triumphant and a snarky smirk prickled upon his lips, but the situation soon settled on him; hehad caused his father to resent him again. It was subtle, but Damian was aware his outburst and problematic behavior was taking a toll on the family.

Of course it was nowhere near as fucked up as it first was but his trail of dead and destruction still lingered and continued to stink up the place. Damian let out a sigh and plopped back onto the sheets; his eyes gazed at the ceiling. He knew he was just a gratuitous addition to the family, and he wasn't sure he could change that.  
He boy finally capitulated to consciousness and the haunting thoughts towering over his psyche. It wasn't hard for Damian to welcome slumber with open arms.


	3. Icarus

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Soft sadness

Today wasn't too thrilling for Damian. The ride up to the school was silent for the most part. Bruce kept his sights on the road and only disengaged to glance at his son in the back seat. Damian on the other hand maintained a countenance of disgruntlement. It was a familiar emotion for everyone to see. Anger and aggravation was just...normal.

If summed up, the car ride went smoothly. No complaints or hinderances, which Damian was thankful for. The two went through the motions, and go into the school. It wasn't out of the ordinary for kids to be lingering near the administration office before school started. After all, who wouldn't want to see what happened to that _monster_ after he beat that poor kid up. Damian grunted as children silently snickered while he and his father made their way to the meeting, whether it was because of the fact he got in trouble, or that he was dragging behind his father wasn't apparent. So, Damian assumed it was both. Bruce on the other hand didn't give any attention to the kid cackles because he was focused on Damian's predicament.

Damian actually felt ashamed of what he had gotten himself into. How does his father feel about all of this? He has to be pretty annoyed. He probably is going up to the principle to disown him or something. As he discriminates, he throws his mom into the mix. She would probably be pissed he didn't behead the little twerp who started all of this. Yeah, she would definitely disown him. He was being weak and incredibly too merciful,letting these children push him around. She's wouldn't be losing anything since she could make a thousand other kids just like him. He was in the middle, far within no man's land. But there couldn't be a middle, it didn't work like that. Damian, you can only be black or white, there is no gray.

All the complicated pondering made Damian grow hot and sticky. He stole a quick breath to control his thoughts as they walked. Damian wasn't on tv but the passing camera eyes of his colleagues made him clamp up.

The young Wayne was relieved when they finally approached the office. Bruce gestures him into a small room where they were supposed to be meeting. He follows.

 

When the two enter the tiny chamber, Damian slips into the seat adjacent to his father who starts the conversation. Damian looked up at the man his father spoke to. He had seen him plenty of times before but never up close like this. It was too personal and differed from the usual auditorium speeches. The man was middle aged with specks of gray worming through his comb over. Yet, he was well groomed. The man on the opposite end of the desk looks shaky and nervous as if he did not want to deal with this problem. He didn't want to deal with _Damian_. Although he looks rigid and uneasy, Bruce's charisma is the equilibrium that holds the meeting together.

The man pushes up his glasses and speaks, " Mr. Wayne, your son has had numerous offenses and we are uncertain if his education will continue here."

"I'm terribly sorry for any damages or problems my son has caused." Bruce informed.

"I understand that Mr.Wayne, but Damian's type of behavior can not be tolerated any longer. He's hostile and a threat to the other students—" the man gulped as Damian's eyes heat up.

"Students and faculty have been sending in numerous complaints and concerns about your son and I'm not sure if I'm able to vouch for him anymore..."

Bruce still manages to play off a cool composure, "Damian is just adjusting to the new school. I can assure you that there will be no more incidents occurring _because of him_."

The principle smiles and takes a breath,  "Good because if something else happens I will have to expel him. And I don't want to have to do that, Damian is a very bright young boy. I am aware of your wealth but we can not take such a blow to our reputation if he continues to act out of line. I feel as if we have been very lenient with Damian since he is still fairly new."

"And because of his status," Damian whispers which gets a side eye from Bruce.

"Yes you have, and I appreciate your patience with him." Bruce gives the man a generous smile,"How is the situation with the fight looking"

"Ah, I was just getting to that. They have decided to drop the charges."

Damian should have been happy, but looked up in confusion. That didn't make much sense.

"However, the mother does wish to speak with you." The principle added.

"That is understandable." Bruce notes.

"I still don't understand why I am the one being accused of wrong doing." Damian speaks up and folds his arm, his pupils darting his attention at the principle.

"Damian." His father's tone is warning.

The man glances over to Bruce, "I think it would be best if Damian waited outside..."

"I agree," Bruce looks to Damian who is now clearly unnerved as his arms fly into the air. Bruce silently gestures him to move with a look, not sparing him the indignity of the situation.

His son's eyes narrow, "I did nothing wrong!"

"Don't start Damian! Not here, not now." Damian balls his fist up, but eventually complies and gets up from his seat.

They wait until Damian exits the room before speaking again. The boy lowers himself into one of the waiting room chairs and grumbles. The office was a bit noisy causing complications in interpreting the conversation on Damian's end. He was impressed that the school even considered getting fortified walls, because the sound did not travel as sharply as he wished.

He picked up bits and pieces of the conversation.

' _Damian is taxing to the school.... children seem to be scared of him... teachers find it difficult to interact with their classes when he's in it.... lessons aren't smooth.... he's distracting.._.' and of course he was picking up all the vile comments about him. The worst part was that Bruce wasn't even defending him. The least he could do was try to explain the motives of his son's behavior or something. Don't just throw him under the bus.

Damian spots a blonde woman stroll into the office. She's dressed in semi formal attire with flaming red bottom heels. The woman seems to be in her mid 40's and probably has a reasonable sum of money like his father. Damian reasoned it was the kids mother when she opens the door to the office room Bruce was in.

Damian glances at the clock meticulously as the time ticks by. He lowers his head towards his lap and examines his hand. As expected, his little purple garden grew over night. It rooted from his fingers down to the beginning of his arm.

Damian raised his hand and closed his eyes.

The meeting was around a good twenty minutes but to then raven haired boy it was timeless. Bruce steps out immediately grabbing the boy's attention. His father is working the strings and using his facade with grace. He shakes the woman's hand and she actually seems a bit charmed and mesmerized. Before her emergence she looked imbued with exasperation;in spite of that,she exited with satisfaction. The principle thanked the man and handed him some paperwork. If Bruce Wayne was worth anything, it would be this.

Damian got up and waits for Bruce to finish up his wooing. When he does the man is on the move," Come on Damian."

The boy follows, "how long am I suspended for."

"Five days," Bruce responds and doesn't bother to face his son as he moves with urgency.

" I'm sorry." Damian admits in embarrassment, his eyes slap the ground.

"For what." Bruce's question came out more as a statement that an actual question, almost as if he wasn't in the mood for what Damian had to say.

"... for fighting that kid when I was clearly superior. I should have handled the situation better, like you said."

"You shouldn't be apologizing to me, you need to tell that kid the next time you see him."Damian opens his mouth to speak but refrains.

"I know this whole public life thing is new to you. I know you're not used to other children your age that are _normal_ —" that definitely came out wrong,"... that did not have the same upbringing. But, you told me you could handle this type of life. I need you to prove that with your actions."

The two approach the car in a timely fashion, "I'm going to try... I promise I won't cause anymore problems here. I will not fight other kids or be disrespectful to the teachers to any further extent."

Bruce gets into the driving seat and Damian hops into the passenger seat next his father, " good because there won't be a next time. If you get trouble again, you will be expelled."

"I know." The boy mumbles and stares out the window.

"Then act like it. Damian, this is a simple task. Just go to school and follow the rules. If you can do that, I'll reconsider the robin situation." The car starts up and the two head off back to the manor.

"Yes father."

 

\---

Damian stared motionlessly at himself. He inhaled a stack of air and lowered his eyelids steadily. Once surrounded by the darkness he exhaled slowly filling as he releases bad energy. He returned to a relaxed state and once again stared into the mirror. He looked at the boy on the other side. Those eyes gazed into his existence, judging without a word parting his lips. Two shotgun barrels smoking icy water vapor looked just about ready to shoot Damian.  
He couldn't take it anymore and passed his focus to the faucet. Twisting it, the nozzle caused cool liquid to gush out of the sink. Muffled squealing and screaming escapes the tap as water disappears into the drain. He lowered his palms and scooped some running water up. His hands sprung up to his face causing the droplets to collide against his skin. He glanced back up into the glass to find the boy still looking at him with those burning eyes. Damian shifted back to the faucet and tossed some more water in his face, hoping to put the fire out. His attempts were futile because the fire returned sizzled strong through the droplets twinkling down his soft derma.

The child grabbed one of the white neatly folded towels from a wall tower rack; he patted it against his face, letting it slurp up the remanence.

"Okay..." Damian puffed. His eyes stare back into the mirror," I am going to do things right this time. I am going to do better than what I have been doing. I will listen to father and control my emotions."

Damian blinked. He knew it was awkward that he was speaking to himself in the mirror but he wanted to be more bonafide than just letting it rest in his mind.  
"This isn't hard."

"I've done many things much more vigorous than this. If I can prove to him that I can do this, I can—" a jingling loaded his ears. He spotted the source of the noise sniffing his feet. The beautiful black beast rubbed itself against him.  
"Titus, get out of the bathroom." Damian placed a hand on the dark Great Dane's temple. The dog raised its head lifting it's snout in the air. Damian tried to shoo him out the bathroom causing the hound to back up. Damian closed the door and tossed his towel onto the bed.

Titus sat in front of him, wagging his tail persistently . Damian felt guilty for neglecting his pet for some time. But Titus seemed to be healthy and happy as always. He assumed Alfred was the safety net that took on his responsibilities when he stopped.

"Do I get a thank you?" Damian wasn't surprised when he looked towards the entrance of his room to find Tim standing there.

"What do you want Drake?" He rolled his eyes crouching down next to Titus. The last time he had remembered hearing the boy's voice was when he was praising the God's for taking Damian out of his day.

"Don't act like you care about your dog now all of a sudden. I heard about what happened at school, so I wanted to make sure you weren't lonely up here for your time in confinement, " Tim teased and took it upon himself to enter his brother's territory.

"I have been a little occupied with school to take care of him. That's it. And, I don't need you to patronize me. Besides we both know when it comes down to it, I'm the one saving your ass." Damian hissed causing Tim the roll his eyes.

"One day you're going to regret treating the ones closest to you like _crap_ Damian." Tim growls.

"Who says we're close? I never seem to recall us being close. From what I remember you're my rival, a threat that I intend to get rid of."

' _And you hate me, which I get. I'm not someone people want to be around. So we are doubtlessly not close, right?'_

Tim scoffed, " Why are you always a jerk??"

"If being a jerk means speaking truthfully, then I can not change that."

_'I-I... don't know...'_

"Whatever demon spawn," he responds and leaves the room shutting the door with an undermined passion.

 

Titus whined and nuzzled into the boy's neck. Damian sighed, "yeah you're probably right Titus... that was a little uncalled for. "

_'I think I messed up.'_

Damian closes his eyes and took another breath. That was one thing he was aware got him into to problems. His excessive need to make crude comments and the lack of shame that went along with it. It was an area he needed great improvement in. He rubbed his fingers on his forehead and mentally noted to try and shut up more. Damian was determined to make this work out for him and his family.

His five day of suspension were extremely boring and I entirely drawn out. Damian was not issued any internet access in case of him getting any bright ideas to tackled a new case while robin was grounded. He wasn't allowed to train, and he wasn't allowed to leave the manor grounds without approved supervision. It was easy to tell that he was completely uncomfortably with his new living arrangements. But dispute the whole lot of nothingness he was doing, he tried his best to keep his word. Damian made sure to stay out of everyone's way. His leveled back appearances seemed to raise the atmosphere of the manor; it was a well deceived break.

He would wake up at the break of dawn and take a shower. Damian grew accustomed to a lonely shower. At the bottom of the tub he would only feel warm water tapping against his skin and rolling to the bottom. He felt nothingness , there was no emotion;his mind was just as bare as his skin. Damian just could not motivate himself to stand in the shower.

In procession, he would get Titus and take him outside to be walked. The dog was always chirper to see his young master clip his leash on. Damian would open the door to the manor's backyard and let the dog lead him outside. The boy was a self proclaimed alpha but he would always let the Dane lead him instead of the other way around. It was eerie to see Damian not take the lead. Sometimes the two would stray off of the property so Titus could explore. Damian wasn't really the one telling the dog it was okay to do that, but during their walks the boy was lost in himself. When he realizes that they had left the house, Damian would become filled with anxiety; his father would get mad. So, he usually turns them back around before going too far. The two would stay outside for about two hours.

After that, the rest of the day was fair game. He might have returned to his room and drifted off to sleep again, destroying his sleep cycle even further. Or, he might sit up and sketch like he used to. That hobby was a little enjoyable but did little to suppress the emotions piling up.

He wasn't allowed to use his phone but knew when he got back to it, the messages would have stacked up.

He was doing a good job at keeping his mouth shut. He wouldn't dare speak his mind. But he did have his moments when he slipped up and got disappointed responses in return. But for the most part, his lip stayed sewed tight and he stayed out of sight.

Somehow no one seemed to notice as much. Either that or they didn't care. They let Damian stand there and hold a board over his head. He was fairly strong and managed to hold it up this long. Although he was incredibly gifted with strength, a human could only take so much before they bent under the pressure. Every so often, more weight would be added on his board. At first it was easy to hold it up high, but now his muscles ached and his legs wobbled under his being. How much longer could he handle it?


	4. Breaking Point

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The fall

Okay, this shouldn't be hard. This whole thing should not be hard. If he could perfectly mimic anyone's voice, he could definitely blend in at a school of rich kids. It's a sea of grays, whites, and blacks. Gray embellished cardigans and white jumpers was the norm for students. All the kids look the same, no matter their skin complexion or hair type. No matter their facial features, or height. All the little pieces of chocolate were packaged and wrapped identically. Once someone enters they sink into dull colors and disburse into the nothingness of the current. Faceless, splashing of waves cry out towards the sky. Everyone travels and sails on by without a second thought. So why was it that Damian was the boat on top of it all?

Cicada chirping engulfs the boy's ears as he advances down the halls. Damian tries his best to avoid eye contact with the numerous people staring him down. The crooked smiles on their faces ridicule him from all directions, they morph and curl at the seams to exacerbate his ambivalent attitude. He feels trapped, his body is slow and heavy; but, he keeps moving.

  
Whispers bounce on and off the walls, causing Damian garrote his bag straps with an iron grip. It was tasking to maintains an unfazed composure, without his face exploding with crimson wine.

  
_Ew... the creep is back, don't you guys ever wonder how he got a father like Bruce Wayne...?_

_...that Damian Wayne kid is weird... I don't get how he still comes back to school..._

_..look at him, he thinks he's the fuckin shit over there. I really hate that guy..._

_..for real?? He actually came back after what he did...?_  
   
Sometimes he wished his ears weren't as good as they were. It was truly a blessing and a curse. He only wished he could make it into the library without having a mental breakdown in front of everyone. The humiliation would surely cause his nerves to malfunction. The last thing anyone wanted was for a kid to completely slaughter majority of the school's population.

Managing to stay together, he lets out a sigh when he infiltrates the library. The large room is fairly still with only the soft noises of pages turning and keyboard typing. He deepens himself into the room as he slowly starts heading towards the back. The shelves are all arranged diligently so that the books are easily admirable. An area of desk are huddled in the corner unoccupied, alone and undisturbed. Damian takes this opportunity to put his belongings down and set up at one of the secretaires. His fingers glide across the brilliantly crafted rosewood as he takes a seat. He switches on the personal lamp at his desk, lighting up his little working area. The luminary is a classical piece with an antique bronze finish.

The lips of his bag slither open and he pulls out a thick book along with his phone. Both items are placed gently on the rich timber's surface. First, his portable cell was going to be inspected. While he was on _vacation_ , he was forced to give Alfred all item that were considered hazardous. Anything that they thought would give him any bright ideas...This varies from weaponry, such as his Grandfathers master sword all the way to devices that allowed internet access. When he went back to school, he was only allowed to have his phone and his laptop for strictly school purposes. Luckily, the old caring butler was strong on privacy and did not dare snoop through the boy's belongings.

The phone booted up and welcomed him back; quickly, a bombardment of messages littered his screen. He propped his elbow up on the desk to let his face rest in his palm. Messages in his inbox were swept up by his cool demoralized eyes :

**_If you kys, it would be much appreciated. Thx._ **

**_Ur a fuckin piece of shit so don't come back to school._ **

**_Grass loving special snowflake._ **

**_You socially awkward little bitch. How dare you put your hands on him! This is why no one likes you. You're crazy!!_**  
   
Damian was quickly fed up with the taunts and frustratingly deletes them all. A heavy sigh carried from his being and his eyes flutter shit got a second of self reflection.

' _Shutupshutupshutupshutupshut_!'

His body shivers violently as he tries to regain some sovereignty over himself. A tasking problem that got the best of him for far too long. His angry temperament was an Achilles heel that would keep him out of the grace of his father, if left unchecked. Finally, the boiling blood coursing through his vain settled into a low sizzling hum. He reopened his eyes and opens a new app in his phone. A music app.

  
White earbuds are taken from his pocket and connects to the phone.

Advertisements plastered the home screen. The new trending artist have already made their way to his attention. He scrolls through genres and different artist to find something that catches his eyes. Damian wasn't really a music person per se ... well he was a music person, but definitely not your average adolescent getting hooked to Justin Bieber or Bruno Mars ...or whatever they were into these days . Thanks to his lovely mother Talia, his taste in music was diversified but stayed collectively in one area. Anything thing with a real embedment of instruments. So your classical music and your jazz, stuff like that. Perhaps that was one thing he had in common with most of the students here. That he was forced into music and playing instruments???  
Who cares...  
   
   
Artist start to be put on trial. He samples some of the songs and skip to the next if it was not compatible. Most of the them sound buffoonish, trivial at best. They're simple-minded and repetitive. As if nothing could satisfy him, he stumbled across one artist in particular...They were very congenial so Damian picked up on parallels expeditiously. Even though it had seemed as if Damian found his match, the lyrics were very explicit... and derogatory... Someone of his age should not be listening to this at all. But the passion thrusted into his words roared with that same intensity he felt in combat. The violence and blood thirsty feeling tingling in his toes. That demented hunger...As Damian lends his ears to the music, he notices the change of tone in the repertoire. It was less rambunctious... and more depressing. Like a hollow shell was scooping it's insides out, letting the whole world understand it's pain. The heartbreak, the sadness, the loneliness, the simple fact that he was empty inside, resonated with Damian. It was strange hearing something that seemingly understood him.

Coming to the conclusion music was appeasing, allowed him to move onto what he intended to do. The reason he was in the library to begin with was to hide out before home room. It was too risky to be seen in the halls and there was only so much he could take from all those kids before he rung someone's neck. Damian shifts towards his book and opens the pages. Steadily, he begins to build up his engagement allowing time to pass by smoothly. His eyes run on top of the words, picking up the syllables as he goes along. It had been a long time since he felt unnerved and relaxed. His spirit slowly bubbling up to the surface from that sunken place in his breast. Fluorescent colors fill his mind as he slowly breaks away from the darkness. The artist coos in his ears as he reaches the end of the page. He lifts a hand to turn the content when the book is suddenly snatched from his grasp.

His attentions shoot up towards the perpetrator that disenfranchised him. It's a girl meticulous dangling the piece of literature from her bright pink nails. Long blonde hair hide her ears from view, and her topaz eyes snickered more than her mouth did.

"What's this Wayne?" She lip gloss popped as she starts toying with him.  
Damian was clearly not in the mood to entertain this foolishness and he stands up to confront her, "give it back."

"But what if I wanna read it too??" She pouts sarcastically, beginning to press his buttons.

"Give it back." He states again.

"Um... I don't think I want to do that." She waves her free hand in the air innocently, her eyes gleam with illicit behavior.

  
"It doesn't belong to you, give it back." Damian irritatingly grits.

"What if I don't want to??" She questions hubristically. The boy takes a step towards her reaching for the book. She answers his motion by stepping back.

"What are you going to do huh?? Beat me up too??? Because that's just perfect! Damian the woman abuser!" She testified wickedly. Damian skin crawls as he lowers his arm. What options did he have...?

"That's what I thought." The girl takes another look at the book twisting and turning the novel carelessly,"Uhh... this book looks boring. OH! I know what I can do!" Damian catches every detail as she takes her hands and starts tearing pages out the book. A fusion of anxiety and anger flushes his system as the fibers are disconnected. He stares helplessly as the pages drift towards the ground. The book was being ruined. His father's book.

"Welp that wasn't as fun as I expected it to be... but your expression is hilarious..." she cups her mouth to keep her cruel giggles from escaping," I mean—it's just a book! Don't get so butt hurt!"

Damian's eyes continued to stay locked on the girl. He was completely useless in this situation. Negotiation wasn't an option because the girl seemed to be just as stubborn as his father. Reporting her to an adult wouldn't help much because she could easily spin her story around on him;no matter how much he tried, they would not believe him. Regardless, finding someone else to assist him would indefinitely crush the little patched up shard of pride he had left. The last option was the fight her.... but if he did that, he could kiss everything he was working for goodbye. He felt incredibly weak and worthless. The predator was devouring it's prey and the roles don't need to be pointed out. The only thing he could do was let her have her way.  
   
"I think this needs a new home~" her eyes lit up with excitement causing the Wayne's stomach to flip. Her wrist twirls the book like a worm on a fishing hook.

"Have fun fishing this out of the girls bathroom toilet!"

  
There was a quick pause.

"Oh wait! You're a boy!" The poor joke caused her to violently burst into laughter. It was weird because no one seemed to care about how loud she was... in a _library_... or maybe since she was dealing with Damian, it was okay, because it wasn't as if anyone was in his corner. But her parade of laughter was soon blanketed by the chiming of the homeroom bell.

  
"Oh! Looks like it's time for me to go. Goodbye Dami~" she smirks and begins to dally out of the library in her flannel skirt and knee high stockings. His sights stay on her until she disappears into the crowd of faceless students.

This....

This was....

This was so unfair! Damian heaves heavily and crouches down to pick up the scattered pages on the ground. Why would she do that? What wicked spirit of jealousy and envy possible possessed her to do this? After gathering all the paper, he grabbed his belongings. The lamp flipped off and he pushed his chair in. Let it go, she's gone... just go to class... do what your father asks of you. The timer starts now, hold your breath as long as you can.  
   
   
Is hatred the right word to describe this? Or.... is that too strong? Well either way, school wasn't something he was happy to attend. Time thought it was funny to stand still when Damian stepped into those classrooms. It was a drag listening to the mumbling of drooling kids get confused on rudimental problems. All the work was easy, leaving him to daydream in class. They were all obnoxious and Damian was stuck in that traffic.

He slipped his earbuds out. One plopped in his left ear leaving the other cold and exposed. His teachers did not seem to mind since he wasn't _falling asleep_ or anything. Damian let's his soul immerse with the clock as he flows with the ocean current of musical notes.

Out of all the periods he had, Physical Education was probably the worse. You would expect it to be the opposite right? The boy loved locomotion and excitement. He practically breathed, slept, and ate testing the limits of his body. But all these kids just weren't his speed. If anything they made it tiring to preform. Basketball? Slow... Soccer? Slow... Fencing?? Extremely slow... It wasn't fun.

Damian follows his male classmates into the locker room. The slight fumes of testosterone carries. Kids go to work and start to change for PE. Since Damian's locker is at the end, he has to make his way past multiple boys staring and speaking under their breath. They were most likely jealous of Damian's physique. But, it was uncomfortable to be the center of attention at a time of rest.

At least there was a moderate amount of silence when he changed. In his section of lockers, he didn't change alone, but he wasn't bombarded with dumb questions and jokes. You had your usual quiet souls or the kids inept to this sort of class requirement. They did not like Damian, but didn't dare speak to him. They change. They leave.

Damian does the same and heads out into the main gym. He scores himself a seat on the bleachers. As he settles down, he watches the genders mix again. Everyone melted into a unison sound of color. Each child has to wear a white t-shirt with the school logo and gray shorts intertwining all the little souls. He felt valueless watching the kids having fun below him, but... the bleachers were cool too. At least they didn't yell at him for making mistakes, or tease him for being different. There was no mockery or perverse pleasure being fulfilled. Their company was appreciated.

The gym instructor tells all of the kids that they're going to be doing a fitness assessment. Everybody was supposed to run a mile outside on the school's track.

Damian drags his feet across the pavement, collecting red remanence on the bottom of his shoes. The boy makes his way to the back of the pack and waits for his instructions. He examines his classmates as crispy spring breeze ruffles his shorts. Surprisingly, majority of them look exhilarated to run. The athletes line up in the front bragging to their friends about how they were going to win. Even the preppy girls look somewhat pleased to jog along side their schoolmates. Bubbling faces eager to fellowship. Everyone was so full of life and joy... Why couldn't he have that too?

  
"Alright everyone. Good luck, do your best, and PLEASE do not walk." The teacher announced.  
   
HWEEE!  
   
All the kids are off and their feet storm the ground kicking up debris. There are some kids in the front sprinting as if they could hold it the whole time. Damian shakes his head in disappointment. A mile isn't a sprint... Just a short endurance race... His legs and arms churn as he builds up momentum. He sinks into a rhythm as his limbs rotate like gears in a clock. He sets a casual pace for himself; his stomach expands as air flows in through his mouth. It's released, allowing his respiratory to pick up a tempo. There's a new feeling fluttering within him. He feels light, almost as if he could float away in that moment. The air feels incredibly soothing when it drags across his body. Lost in this harmonious adventure, he misplaces track of time and was already on his last lap.

He runs into the finish line and trots towards his instructor. One finally breath is taken as he watches the man scribble something on a clipboard.

"5:48. Nice job Damian!" The man is perplexed. But, Damian only nods in response. The man looks down at him, " wow, you don't even look tired. I bet you could have done even better than this." He cheers. And, he was right. Damian could have done better than that. In fact, he was just getting warmed up. The down side? Well, it was already over.

"Since you're done before everyone else, you can wait on the bench." Damian shook his head in an understanding motion and begins to head off when the man stops him."Say.." he begins," how would you like to participate in the Spring Track and Field Program? You would be a great edition." Damian looked towards the ground for a second as he thought, and then looked back up. He most likely wasn't going to do it but responded anyway. 

"I will think about it."  
   
   
Class ends and Damian returns back to the locker room to change his clothes. He was aware that a couple of kids followed him, but tries to ignore it. The lock on his locker is scrambled and he turns to leave.

"What do you want?" He gestures to the kids blocking the exit.

"We just wanna know how you were running so fast. Are you on steroids or something?" One of the boy's asks.

"He has to be—I mean look at him! No other kids are built like that!" Another boy blurted.

Damian doesn't say anything.

"So you are huh?! You must be real desperate Wayne. You can't even feel important without drugging yourself up."

Damian begins to make his way past the kids, when a hand in placed on his shoulder; his gaze spins around like an owl and his eyes scratch at the boy. Heat begins to ignite his body.

"The last person who undertook something similar ended up in a locker." Damian hissed, causing the boy to utter a unbeknownst chuckle.

"You think I'm scared of you Wayne?" He sneers and shoves Damian towards the wall. A cry of pure rage leaves the Wayne's mouth as he pushes his way past the kids. The locker room door slams shut.  
   
~~~~  
   
"What would you like to eat today?" A woman in a powdery white chefs jacket smiles brightly at him. Damian lingers on his options. The food basks in the luminary and the smells fill his nose. There's a tray of grilled salmon with a golden brown complexion, coated in a glaze of honey. But there's diced chicken breast crafted into cute squares. Decisions... decisions... so many options to choose from.

Damian held a finger in the air pondering on what to get. Actually... he wasn't sure if he wanted any of it.

"Do you have any vegetarian dishes?" He questioned, feeling a little uneasy staring at all the dead animals.

  
The woman nodded, and showed him a list of meals, "what would you like?"

"I'll take the meal of the day." He wasn't in a particular mood for anything.

"Excitement choice. Thai Curry Vegetable and Tofu Soup with white rice." She chimes and prefers a tray. Damian looks down at his meal when it's passed to him. The meals of heaven don't excite him but he thanks the woman nonetheless.

Once he exits the line, his looks for a vacant seat; however, all the tables seemed to be occupied. His eyes wander around the dining hall in search for somewhere to rest. If there weren't any open areas in here, he might venture to the academy's courtyard.

While he scanned the room he saw that boy! The one he threw into the locker! The lecturing of his father rang through his head.... Trying to make things right, he makes his way towards the boy. He maneuvered his way around other kids making certain is food was not knocked to the floor. Damian tapped the boy's shoulder causing him to turn around. The boy's arm was held in a sling.

"Wayne... what do you want?" He spat.  
Damian tried to ignore it, "I came to you, to apologize."

"Apologize to me? You think just because you apologize everything magically becomes better???" He waves his free arm for an exaggerated effect.

Damian watches disgusted, "look... I just approached you to say I was sorry."

"I. Don't. Care. I'm not accepting your stupid apology. You deserve this! All this hate, everything! You did this to yourself. I want you to know this. I need you here. Right here at this school to prove to you how much of a useless annoying waste of life you are!"

"Do not speak to me like that..." Damian bellowed, which only caused the boy to smile maniacally.

"Your little act is honestly adorable. But I'm not sure you noticed that everyone hates you. You know that right? Seriously, none of us here like you! And to not put your daddy on blast, but I asked my mother to politely abolish those assault chargers. You should be thankful! You may have broken me up a little bit, but I still need you here at school. I think your egos a little too big." He ranted.

Damian falls completely still. He had always suspected this type of hatred from his classmates but it was never bluntly stated like this. It stung to suddenly contemplate how many people truly were unmoved by his very existence. A spicy tingling sensation took over his arms, and he struggles to keep them stiff. Think of fight or flight, but if the flight got its wings clipped off.

Composure was key in this instance, he didn't want to hurt this kid, again. He did but.... he didn't want the repercussions haunting him.

He had finally started to calm down when his tray was thrusted against him body. The boy swatted the food while he was vulnerable.

"Like I said, you deserve it." The boy grins, very fond of his own doings. Curry bleeds down his white polo, and drips out of his hair. Witnesses of the incident start to laugh and giggle as they see the mess illustrated on poor boy's uniform.

It took ever single little bit of restraint to keep Damian from punching the lights out of this kid. How much longer was he going to stand for this? He wasn't sure, he wasn't sure of anything at this moment. His eyes went dark and hollow. His lips straight out blankly. An inscrutable countenance appeared on his face.

  
Damian completely shut down, and exited the dining hall with a new stench of Asian cuisine.  
   
~~~  
The throbbing of the boy's head syncs up with his heart. Constant thumping of blood distracted him from concentrating. He envied the deaf for their infinite source of peace, but that thought was crowding by the clanging of porcelain and glass silverware.

"Damian." His father called across the table causing the boy the look up from the table cloth. He makes a frown and picks up one of the forks resting on a napkin; he starts prodding at his peppered mash potatoes.

"So how was everyone's day?" Tim says placing his cup down from a quick swig of water. The ice clanged gentle against the glass.

  
"My day was splendid. Thank you for asking, Master Tim." Alfred responds.

  
"Bruce? How was work?" Tim encourages.

"It was alright. There wasn't anything particularly exciting about today." Bruce states as he gently cuts his food.

"Huh. Bland and boring today I guess," Tim uttered.

"Would you prefer a different response?" Alfred offered.

"No, no. Um, I just didn't want dinner to be so quiet is all." Tim trailed off.

"Quiet is something I would enjoy right now." Damian projected glaring at Tim from across the table. The older bird lowly sighs.

"What's got you all worked up?"

"Nothing."

"Okay...well how was your first day back to school," Tim asks breaking apart a roll. The recovery from the boy's outburst was needed.

"That's a good question," Bruce adds nonchalantly. All eyes are on Damian now. It anxiously throbbed, tenderizing his entrails.

"It was fine." The response sounded forced.

"Uh, you didn't do anything exciting in school?" Tim pries. Damian drops his folk onto his untouched food. All the drama previously from today has him on edge and he's not in the mood to speak. It's not like he had much decision in his action anyway. His brain was so full of all this hate and bitterness, it had to burst eventually. He couldn't help opening his mouth.

"Why are you pestering me, Drake?? Why are you all of a sudden interested in how my day is?? I said it was fine; I don't need your idiotic coddling! " He shouts. The volume of his voice was louder than it was intended to come out.

Tim looks taken aback, " well sorry for asking how your day was. You haven't been in school for almost a week! Is it that bad for me to ask how it went???"

"I don't need your stupid trivia. Honestly Drake, you're becoming increasingly annoying." Damian shoos him off. 

"Hey don't talk to me like any of this is my fault! You're the one who threw the kid into the locker, and you're the one that got suspended. From school and from being Robin. Don't put that on me!" Tim voice started to elevated as well.

"Yeah? And I bet you're happy about that. Maybe now that I'm not robin you can polish up your pathetic skills."

"Damian!" His father shouts.

"You little brat! Go ahead and bite the hand that feeds you." Tim cries.

"Do you really think you have any important impact on my life?? I wouldn't want to bite your pitiful hand away." Damian sneers. 

"Your attitude is the reason why robin was taken from you in the first place."

"Are you just jealous Drake?" Damian taunts, "if I were you, I would be too. Logically, your performance is very inferior, to your predecessors and to me. You're weak Drake. Plain and simple. I don't even understand why everyone pretends you're a good robin."

"You know what I don't understand....? Why everyone pretends you're even worthy of being robin in the first place. _No one likes you Damian_! No one asked for you to swoop in and save the day. You act all hot shit, but you're the one always causing problems. You screw up missions with your whinny temper tantrums! You have no consideration for human life! Yet, no one has the balls to say how we all feel to your face. Well I do... the only reason you're here is because _your mom wants you to ruin everything for us!_ **BECAUSE YOU'RE A FUCKING UNWANTED MISTAKE!"**

"Master Tim!" Alfred yelped.

"YOU TAKE THAT BACK!" Damian squeaks angrily.

"BOYS!" Bruce yells.

"No.. you know what?? I'm done." Tim huffs, his voice is shaky and obviously full of hurt. Tim leaves and Alfred quickly follows behind.

The room grows silent. The only sounds heard are complaints Tim rambles outside of the room. Bruce has a disgusted demeanor as he looks at his son in disappointment. He didn't mean to say all that.. it was just a spur of the moment. Damian stares back letting his brother's concerns devour him.

" _I'm tired Al, I really am. I'm not letting him talk to me like he owns me anymore. I'm so sick of him doing this, and Bruce letting it happen. I'm not some sort of punching bag that the kid can just abuse."_

"Why do you continuously persist on testing my patience." His father spoke. The candle flames flickered back and forth between his pupils.

Words pile up in Damian's throat as he scatters to find words, " okay— I said a couple of mean things. But this was not a one man show— Drake was apart of it too!"

His father stood up, clearly vexed. "Just... I don't want to talk to you right now Damian." He concludes and exits the room leaving his son all alone again. Damian screams loudly, but there is no sound that leaves his lips. The chair he was sitting on it pushed in, and his feet start to move by themselves. He wants to be alone, he needs to be alone. The dam of black ooze finally breaks. His thoughts begin to violently attack him.

_'You stupid idiot_

_You couldn't keep your mouth shut huh?_

_This is why no one truly loves you_

_This is why your family hates you_

_You see why your father loves that boy  
over his own biological son now?_

_You're a monster_

_He's right, you are a mistake_

_You're the one who's pathetic_

_You're so weak_

_You're not important either, you're actually very replaceable_

_  
You can't even do the simplest things right_

_You're father despises you_

_You're disgusting_

_You'll never be worth anything_

_It would be better if you were dead_

_You should have never been born_ '  
 

  
He finally breaks.  
   
The destination he was taken to, was the closest place to solitude. His bedroom.  
Liquid drizzles out of the opening of his nose. Water begins to conquer his eyes. He sniffs, unable to blink away the tears as droplets roll down his cheeks. He takes the dirty curry stained shirt off of his dresser and uses the corner to wipe his blurry eyes and the running snout. It's discarded onto his bed as he drags himself into the bathroom.

His puffy red eyes return to greet the boy on the other side. Damian's sorrowful face morphed into anger.

" _I hate you."_ He tells the boy.

"I HATE YOU!" The words come from a dark place as his fist slams into the mirror instantly shattering it. Well... that's what he would normally do. He couldn't bring himself to hit the mirror, everything was too much right now. Instead, defeated, Damian drops to his knees and sobs silently, with the tiles to keep him company.  
   
   
   
   
He felt as if he was suffocating on his sadness. He was mentally congested with all the different beings in his thoughts. It was as if the kid said, he deserves it. He deserved all of it. The pain and suffering, it was greatly owed to him. Damian wanted to thrash and throttle and break everything in sight. But... none of those things deserved that type of treatment, it was a singular burden. It hurt, it hurt so much... and he wanted so badly for it to stop.

He grabs the edge of the sink and pulls himself up. The cabinet to the mirror creeked opens and a small first aid kit is pulled out and placed to the side. Next, a brand new DE razor is taken out. He couldn't think of anything else around and all his arsenal was locked away.

He recalled when Dick had bought it for him as a joke. The eldest bird of the nest thought it was humorous that Damian acted like he was grown, when he was only a child. He would always boast and brag, which now looking back at it... was really embarrassing. But Dick insisted he keep it to use when he was ready.... ironically, he was ready to use it now.

He can't believe his doing this. This is incredibly stupid... why is he doing this?  
He had heard about the act before and when it was first brought to his attention he had burst into laughter. The notion was utterly ridiculous, weak and severely frowned upon. Why would someone possibly in their right mind harm themselves without a creditable reason??? Apparently it was supposed to help someone in times of emotional pain or struggle which sounded dumb to him. But right now... He was down to try anything that would help. He just wanted the pain to go away... 

The first aid kit popped open and supplies are taken out to be readily available. He retrieves the actual razor from the little device and holds it up to his bare skin. The faded moonlight reflects off the cool metal. The blade presses against his wrist sucking at the tender skin with its sharp lips. It swiftly glides against his flesh in a morbid majestic dance, just as easily as paying with a credit card. Bubbles immediately erupts to the surface of his creamy skin, and the cerise liquid continues to swell until the little blobs collide with each other. This caused the crimson blood to slowly leak down his forearm.

Although the act was unconditional unorthodox, he felt lighter. Like a chain was unshackled from his limbs. He was free and he was In control. The vacant hole in his chest shrank ever so slightly.  
As he watched the droplets drip into the sink, he makes another slice on himself. And then another... and another...every cut made, refilled his senses with tranquility. He places the blade down into the sink; It's sprinkled with his scent. Using his free hand, he turns on the warm water. The noise the faucet is calming this time, as his red washes away into the drain. Damian then proceeds to dress his self inflicted injuries as if he were wounded in battle. Once they were neatly wrapped, he took a thumb and brushed away the last of his salty tears.

Damian sticks the blade back into its compartment. The personal first aid kite is put back together as well. He takes another look at his wrist and feels like a complete moron. But it helped... it helped more than any else he had tried thus far.

The items are neatly placed back into the cabinet. He takes one final look at the contents before shutting it. The bathroom door shuts and the covers on his bed are tossed open.

Back to square one.


	5. Intermission

The moonlight glistened as it flickered in out of the way of the passing clouds. The buildings were batted with drizzling blue lights seeping in the bricks. The tall street lamps umbrella passing civilians as they make their way from point A to point B. A good amount of people were out at this time drifting through the streets. Some were heading home to close the chapter on another day at the job. Others were out on the town trying to soak up late hours of the day and enjoy a night of freedom.

Dick sat nervously staring at the porcelain. The the hovering light reflected off the surface causing a twinkle in the smattering of ketchup. He watched as a hand dipped into the mangled bundle of fried potatoes. The crunching was subtle.

Dick was pondering, he wasn't sure what to say. He was supposed to be prepared for this, not scrambling for words. His eyes rolled over to his own plate. It's just a half eaten burger with a dangling pickle inching towards his fries. It was accompanied by his empty cup of soda. The ice was slowly melting at the bottom.

"Are you going to say something?"

Dick snapped out of his train of thought. Another man sat on the opposite bench. His voice came out low, and a bit irritated. He had a hard expression on his face. Definitely not someone that looked approachable without confrontation. But his boredom could have been easily confused with annoyance. A patch of gray sat on top of his forehead until it was swallowed up by a jungle of onyx locks. He picked up another fry, scooping up liquidity tomato sauce with it.

"Yeah, I'm just thinking of something to say Jason..." Dick mumbled watching the man bite off the ketchup covered tip.

"Well take as much time as you need. Not like I had anything important to do tonight." Jason sarcastically stated waving his hands theatrically. Dick seemed unmoved by the other males remark.

"I took time off patrol to do this too." Dick reminded him. A woman came over in a rosy flannel shirt with a white apron on top. She had a tray with two different cups. One was filled to the brim with brown liquid, and its partner was clear and sparkling. She placed the new drinks in front of them and retrieved the empty cups. The bubbles sizzled against the clanging ice cubes in the transparent glass. Dick gave her a quick thank you, and she nods and walks off.

Jason finished munching on another fry before speaking, "But you're the one that set this up. _I_ did not asked to be dragged here to chit chat with mister perfect. So tell me, why are we here?" He took a chomp out of his own burger, waiting for the other former Robin to reply.

"I wanted to talk to you about something." Dick crossed his fingers between each other in a pondering motion. Jason swallowed the remaining food in his mouth. 

"Okay." Jason gestures for him to go on.

"It's about Damian, I think there's something wrong with him." It almost came out in a whisper. Jason got a bit unnerved by Dick's conversation topic. That kid, seriously? 

"You asked me to come out here for you to whine about that kid? Hey, I appreciate the whole little _dinner date_ thing you got going on here, but don't you think you could have chosen someone else to talk to about this?" He queried. 

"I just want to keep you in the loop. If no one else is gonna do it, I might as well. I felt like this was pretty urgent, and you should know. " Dick continued peeling the paper off of his new straw. He plopped the hollow plastic in the clear liquid before taking a quick sip.

"Well I'm not really good with this mushy stuff." Jason huffed following Dick's example and freeing his straw from incarceration. After slurping on some of the Diet Coke, he spoke "Look I know you feel all guilty about...everything that happened before. But, I think you might be overreacting. That momma bird shit is not needed right now man."

Dick leaned on the table a bit, his elbows rested on the surface, "But dude, I just feel there's something really wrong with him. He's all quiet and stuff... it's weird. Like, he's not extra talkative, but he does seem to be less engaged with us."

"Maybe he's on his period, I don't fucking know." Jason chuckled slightly with a sly grin on his face. He twirled his straw around in the glass. The cubes shifted and collided against it.

Dick looks a little disgusted, "What the hell Jason. I don't think that sums anything up."

"He's a kid. Kids get moody. What did you guys even do?"

"He got into complications at school... so Bruce took Robin away from him. "

"I bet he did." Jason rolled his eyes and groaned, " Look, from what I've seen from Damian, he's mad he has to act humble. Especially around civilians. I think he's just being a brat. "

"His brattiness comes with physical violence too though— ah, he did throw that kid into a locker..."

"Exxaacctly. Wait that's actually pretty funny," Jason let out a light laugh. Dick smiled too. He probably shouldn't have but... it was kind of funny. 

"Anyways, there's nothing wrong with him. Just try not to piss in his cereal too much."

"But he's just acting really off... and not the normal angry off.." Dick let out an irritated sigh as he slouches back into the firm cushion. He squeezes his eyes tightly and massages his forehead.

  
"I'm not even in the mood to talk about this kid. I know you're all lovey dovey over the other robins, but he's probably just pent up over yall stripping his title away." He frowned after saying those words and looked over towards the diner window. The neons lights on the open sign flickered bright reds and blues. Darkest on the other end let him channel himself. After easing back into the moment, he turned back towards Dick and concluded his curtailed statement," It's not that serious."

"I'm not sure... you and Tim keep telling me to not worry about this, but I have this weird feeling in my stomach."

"If you're so concerned about him, next time you go over to the Bat's house talk to him." Jason had a drop of bitterness fling off his fangs every time he mentioned Bruce.

"I'm not going to be able to for a couple of days. I have a prior engagement."

"Sounds fun."

"But then I can't talk to him in person as soon as I want to." Dick retorted anxiously. It only caused Jason to sigh from the dragged out conversation.

  
"Then have someone else talk to him. Get Tim to take him out for ice cream or something. I don't know, do something he wants to do." Jason sputtered, Dick was really starting to gall him.

"All he really likes to do is fight and do robin stuff." Dick answered doubtfully.

"Then let hiimm. My god, why are you making this so complicated? Let the kid off the leash for once. I don't even like him that much and I can feel his pain. Jesus Christ!" Jason almost starting yelling. A couple of heads turned in their direction but he didn't seem to care. The only thing Jason did in response was pick up his cup and take another slurp from the flavored seltzer.

"But Bruce doesn't really want him to. He thinks he's let Damian do too much. Like even if he does bad things he'll get rewarded for it or at least have no consequences."

"Why are you always letting that man control you? You're always so uptight." Jason grumbled and placed his glass on the table. He left a good pessimistic amount in the glass and stood up. His hand stretched into his pants pocket and pulled out his wallet. Dick watched in defeat as Jason filed through a couple of bills. He whipped out a crisp twenty dollar bill and tossed it on the table. The zipper on his jacket began to slide up when he spoke, "Look I gotta go Dick, this was nice but it's time for me to split. Just consider what I told you. While you're gone make Tim hang out with the kid." With that, Jason turned to exit the small corner diner.

"Wait." Dick raised a hand reaching out towards the younger man.

Jason spun around sporadically, "Wwwhhhhaaaattt! Dick, I don't wanna talk about you and the replacement squad. I have business to take care of. If you want a shoulder to cry on, go to Alfred. I'm not the one." 

"I didn't just ask you to come here to talk about Damian. I haven't seen you in a long time man." Dick tried to persuade the other to stay for a bit.

"Yeah and that's something I've already gotten used to." Jason waved a hand indicating he was brushing Dick off.

"Hey, before I left, I wanted to catch up with you. If you're doing _field work_ then I have my bathing suit on too."

Jason gave it a quick thought. The diner was relaxed and jazz played in the background. The fans on the ceiling rotated lazily. Jason relented.

"Okay, I guess we can collab for the night."

Dick grinned and called for the waitress to come with the check.


	6. I Love my Dad

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Falling

 

"Alfred, what are you doing at the moment?" Bruce asked, speaking into the bottom of his phone. The billionaire looked astonishingly genteel, but that was obviously a routine appearance. Black decorated his neck; his tie laid flatly on his white dress shirt. He wore a black wool suit jacket, and it was neatly complemented with a silvery Wayne Enterprises handkerchief. He stood patiently by his desk waiting for a response.

"I'm preparing to pick up Master Damian." Alfred replied on the other end of the speaker.

"Alright Al." Bruce spoke. Alfred was quick to respond.

"What are you going on about Bruce? You know I retrieve Damian everyday at the same time."

"Yes I know..." Bruce went on, strolling towards the thick glass windows illuminating his office. He stared into streets of Gotham City, it was littered with numerous infrastructure and little ant vehicles running through the streets.

"Are you suggesting that I should allow you to get him? That's a splendid idea." Alfred sounded quite chipper.

"I was hoping you could pass along a message for me."

"Bruce!" Alfred was fast to snap at his employer, "You need to speak to your son! It's bad enough that he has not been presenting himself very often lately. And to top that off, what happened yesterday is in order of being addressed." Alfred lectured the younger man like a father figure.

"He's just upset he's on some restrictions. I don't need him running around as unstable as he was before." Bruce tries to relay his point.

"Regardless, I think you should consider lessening some of your _restrictions_ " Alfred argued.

"Well, what do you propose?" Bruce questioned. He was kind of at lose of words, most of the time he knew Alfred was right. Alfred was usually more of the socialist reasoning he needed in his life.

"You should take the lad somewhere after _you_ pick him up. It will settle some of this tension lurking around." Alfred answered.

"What do you think he'll like... We don't usually see eye to eye." Bruce wandered away from his grandiose view towards the large book shelf at the side of the room. He rested a hand on the furnished wood.

"I know you'll think of something Bruce. But in the meantime, I'll prepare roast quail with fennel panzanella." Alfred concluded.

"Sounds delicious. I'll see you later."

"Indeed."

Bruce hung up the phone and buried it into his pocket. He never knew how to get his son's attitude in check. The boy was raised too rigid. It was no way for a boy to come of age.

  
He turned back towards his desk to be greeted by an older gentleman. The man hair was graying on the sides and his glasses were stylishly rectangular. He was holding a stack of folders in his arms.

"Bruce." The man announced in a jolliest tone. Bruce beamed at the man.

"Lucius."

"I hope you don't mind that I slipped in." The man chuckled.

"You know I never mind Lucius."

The man gestures the papers towards him. Bruce takes them placing them on his desk, " Well I have the usual, and some new specks on you know what.—Hey, what's the matter?" The man question, "you look upset."

"Parental problems."

"I know kids can be a hard to work with, but all yours seem to be pretty good. Which one?"

"It's the youngest one."

"Oh yeeaahh, that's the one you finally sent to private school right?" Lucius had a little 'aha' moment. Bruce nods.

"Okay, so what's the problem?" The other man questioned.

" He's been acting disorderly... more than he usually does." Bruce addressed.

"Then what have you all been doing to make him act that why?"

"We all agreed that it would be a positive change if Damian hung around kids his own age. But ever since I enrolled him, he's been acting untamable."

"He could be still adjusting you know. Your boy isn't like the others."

"That's what I'm thinking. Recently, he got in a fight with another student, so I took away a couple of things as a punishment. But he hasn't seem to be handling it as well as I thought he would."

"If I'm thinking of the same type of things you are then I think you went a little too far."

"Don't worry, I'm going to loosen up on a few things, but I don't want him to think he can get away with anything. It's come to my attention that I don't do a good enough job keeping up with him." Lucius places a hand firmly on the eldest Wayne's shoulder.

"Well Bruce, whatever you try to do with your son, I think you'll pull it off."

"Thanks, Lucius."

~~~

  
Sunlight scatters onto the grass as it reflects through the leaves on the trees. They sway side to side by the wind collecting in the branches. Damian stands silently under a tree waiting for his chauffeur to arrive. Music plays in his ears as he tries to escape for a moment. Other kids past by giving quick rancor glares and then walking off towards their rides. Damian tries not to pay any mind to them to their malign efforts.

Damian feels out of place and he looks out of place. Everyone had whipped out their embroidered polos for spring and here he was, wearing a turtle neck. Although it wasn't winter weather thick, the large collar was so gratuitous for this type of weather. Itchiness caused him arms to squirm. The small produced amount of sweat under his long sleeves was enough to make him want to scratch at his forearm.

The burning sensation made a stone plop in his stomach again. Why? Why did he do that??? It kept reminding him how stupendously stupid he was... he never had to grab that blade in the first place. It only proved how weak he was.

_'It wouldn't hurt to just scratch it...'_

Damian reached his hand towards his ignited arm. Like a firehose to a flame, he began to drive his nails into his shielded skin. He motioned back and forth putting pressure on the cuts. But he wasn't sure if it helped or not... The tingling would go away but then would be replaced by beating pain.

_'Ah—'_

He was pretty sure he reopened part of a cut. He took his hand away, giving up on his efforts for peace. Fe felt so dysfunctional. He was doing so many things he knew wouldn't solve his problems, and so many things he knew was stupid. But, he couldn't help it.

To past some of the time away he slouched down under the tree; one leg laid flat out and the other was kicked up. He let the music remove him from time for the tiniest moment.

Before he knew it, the familiar car had pulled up to the curb. He took the plugs out of his ears and dropped them in his bag. It was then slung around his back as he collected himself off the ground.

It was already clue that this wasn't a normal pick up, since Damian had to open the passenger door for himself when he climbed into the car. The door shut behind him as he inhabited his seat. He looked into the rear view mirror and spoke, " Where is Pennyworth?" It was a dry and insipid question.

Very identical ocean eyes returned his fixed look, " He deserves a break for once." His father replied. Damian was aware the man had driven straight from work to pick him up. The suite and tie said it all.

"Why are you here?" He grumbled folding his battered arms. His gaze cycled towards the window. All of the objects became a passing blur as the car's wheels rotated into sustained motion.

"Because I want to pick up my son from school." Bruce addressed, his body strayed on the road. The mood was very offset and distant. Two people so similar, yet so disparate.

They weren't taking the usual route home which Damian picked up on abruptly. "Where are you taking me?"

"I'm taking you out for lunch."

"But I already had lunch." Damian promptly responded. Which was a lie, he didn't eat consistently and today was just one of those days he didn't have to stomach to deal with food. But he would buy the food anyway to keep the act up; it was then thrown into the garbage.

"Then think of this as another lunch."

"So you mean like afternoon tea." Damian corrected strongly.

Ha you guys probably thought I was gonna say linner or something.

"Yes."

Damian heaved heavily through his nose.

"You're not hot?" His father asked as their game returned back up to the small mirror. The weather was rapidly changing towards those summer days. Yes, they did wear body-con suits that would probably get irritable, but that was during their work. When in their civilization clothing it was common sense to make yourself comfortable and ordinary. Wearing a turtleneck like his during the spring was pretty out there.

"No, I've been trained to resist temperatures far more scathing than this. I just like turtlenecks more than the polos. I don't care what anyone perceives to be peculiar about me." The answer was masked by great pride. The best part about Damian's 'tough love' when he was younger was lying. The spurious information and the truth came out of his mouth identically. There was no waving in tone or attitude. This might have caused people to believe he was merciless and apathetic. But the chafing between the black fabric and his wrist was unsettling. If only someone would decipher the cages in his eyes.

Bruce didn't reply after this and let the radio hum as he focused on the road. The peregrination was hushed which allowed Damian to rest his eyes.

 

Once they arrived at the restaurant, they were immediately ushered to a table. It was generously masked by flowing snow colored linen. Their glassware did handstands in front of ceramic plates. The chairs were an ebony color and were padded nicely. Damian made a grimace at his father as they both took their seats.

A woman addresses herself and handed them some menus.

"Would you two like anything to drink?" She smiled.

"Water is fine," Bruce replied. The woman nodded and turned to Damian.

"I'll have Green tea."

The woman says okay and leaves to get their drinks.

"So how was school?" Bruce began.

"The same as always, very underdeveloped kids with little stimulus to learn." Damian huffed. Of course his day was more than that. Kids wouldn't leave him alone and pulled any scheme to get under his skin. He had to be attentive of his body and made sure to bring a white compression shirt with him. It brought along the crap the other kids gave him at gym. _Why is he wearing that... it's hot in here... blah blah blah._ It was truly enervating.

"Have you made any friends?" Bruce continued.

"I wouldn't call them friends, just people I know. "

_'I don't like them and they don't like me.—no, they hate me!... please don't start asking about that stupid school!'_

The woman came back with their drinks. She sat the tea down in front of Damian. The light grassy liquid emitted a slow rising steam as the petite leaves circled the demitasse. Following that, she took Bruce's glass and committed to pouring the clear liquid out of a small pitcher.

"Are you guys ready to order?"

"Could you give us a minute to decide?" Bruce kindly asked. Damian took a sip of the tea and watched them.

"Of course, no problem." She smiled and strolled out of their presence.

"How's the tea?" Bruce resumed their 'quality father son time'.

"Pennyworth's is much better." The response caused Bruce to let out a chuckle. Damian placed the cup down and a small smile began to prickle on his lips. But was it okay for him to do that? Was he supposed to begin being happy?.... Is this even happiness...?

"You shouldn't be the only one allowed to ask questions. How was your day at work, father?" Damian put Bruce on the spot.

"The same as always," he jokingly alluded to Damian's previous statement, "I had a couple of meetings and such."

Damian nods and takes another sip out of the cup.

" So I see you have been doing very well in school." Bruce mentions.

"Yes, I always do."

"And you haven't caused any trouble since the last incident." Damian looked his father in the eyes from his drink, leeching onto what he was implying, "so I'm allowing you to use the training room."

Damian had a mini victory dance in his head. Finally, someone had some sense to uncuff his aching soul. He could burst with joy!

"Are you being serious?"

"Yes, I think you deserve a reward for keeping your emotions in check."

"Thank you father." He effused. Bruce replies with a nod and takes a sip of his water. Damian felt very giddy at this moment and was in an emotional state of bliss. Logic was out the window and he began to run of restless adrenaline that had been locked up for so long. The world was in the palm of his hand.

"So what about—" he was quickly stopped in his hyper tracks.

"I don't feel as if you're ready for that yet. We're going to take baby steps." His father instructed very adamantly. Damian felt like everything was crumbling around him. His tea cup shattered and the table collapsed to the floor. His chair splintered and he was now lying on his butt. He was Icarus and his wings were malfunctioning. The waxed had dripped off and he was falling, falling hard. He might have bit off a little more than he could chew with his hoping.

" what?! But it's been a week now and I haven't done anything wrong! I have been following your instructions. I've done everything you've asked me to do!" Damian was going mad. His body movement was hysterical as that spicy black ooze bubbled up to the surface. It was fairly obvious he had grabbed the attention of neighboring tables. Everything thus far was pushing him to his limits.

"We're not going to argue about this. I just told you we're taking this slow." His father calmly stated. To the boy it had seemed uncaring which fed his fire.

"I want to be out there! I'm sick. And tired. Of sitting everything out and watching everyone else do 'everything'! I want to help!" He exploded.

"This is the exact reason why you can't. You're not ready Damian."

"It's been so long since I was able to do anything!!"

"I just said I'm allowing you to train."

"So when am I able to come back?!" He threw his arms into the air as he continued to argue.

"Not soon if you keep acting like this." Bruce was still firm with his responses.

"AHHH! This isn't right!" He yelled. The restaurant went quiet as people stared towards them. It was apparent that Damian had caused a loud disruption from his intolerable behavior.

"Why... do you always have to ruin a good moment Damian? I give you an inch and you take a mile." His father scorned.

"I just think it's unfair!" Damian blurted and hopped down from his seat. Everyone was looking at him... and it reminded him of all the kids at school. They stared at him like he was a freak, a circus animal.

Damian looked above him looking for a ceiling sign or other form of direction to the bathroom. He wanders past a couple of tables, his face was baking as the other patrons lingered on him.

He was thankful the bathroom wasn't too far away. He straggled into a corridor, and grabbed ahold of the fancy door with a large male symbol on it. After stepping in he ran a swift hand through his hair. Gratitude overcame him as he recognized he was only one that occupied the extravagant bathroom. The speakers above the stalls filled the laboratory with calm classical music. He shimmied his way past the white porcelain urinals, and towards the marble sink.

Damian looked back in the direction of the door making sure to be aware if anyone else came in. After confining in the isolation of the bathroom, he turned towards the large mirror. He frowned from the new pink slabbed on his cheeks. Why was he getting like this...? All emotional and unable to maintain a professional public appearance. He wasn't holding it together like he used to. He still had a spiteful puss as a default, but the molding of the clay was just easier to break. His low dips in mood were more common and it was difficult to act unwavering to everything around him. This wasn't the Damian that everyone had first met. The one that wanted to prove he was better than anyone at everything. The one that felt the need to treat everyone like worthless trash. The one that felt entitled to own the entire world. The one that so desperately wanted to uphold the Wayne legacy above all the other robins. He had changed....?

He cursed under his breath. This angsty shit had started when he stayed after class about a week ago. But if he blamed it on that one day, he would be lying to himself. There was something dormant that was finally poking its head out. It overwhelms him with guilt and shame and hate and all these negative emotions...

_About himself._

 

 

Just give it a minute...

Relax...

His expression was pained as it morphed from its usual state. His eyes began to sag dolefully and full vivid pupils were flushed out with miserable ink. My god, he looked so shitty in that mirror. Damian pressed his hands against the edge of the sink, his body leaned on the manmade earthy surface.

The black clothing covering his forearm began to tug up towards his elbow. The sleeves strung up like broadway curtains slowly revealing the bundle of thin scars on his arm. They were kind of red from his scratching but probably not as puffy as they were when he first started. Some of the scab lining had crackled open leaving a thin layer of pink exposed flesh. Little dried up splotches of red painted the outside of the reopened cuts. The dying red was patted on his skin like paint brushes with little paint. Damian assumed the rest of the blood had soaked into his clothes. It wasn't nearly as much bodily fluid as the night before but there were probably little staining littering the inside of the turtleneck sleeve.

He flashed his hand under the automatic sink. As the water ran, Damian stuck his forearm under the falling liquid to rinse away the unclean sweat and dirt that could have piles up in his shirt.

Ugh, he was so tired of speaking. That glob of urge in his throat to speak arrogance into the universe. Another quality he wanted to carve out of himself and watch it splatter onto the floor. But it was so hardwired in him... and he just... _HE HATED IT!_

  
He patted his arm down with soft paper towel from a dispenser. The paper was then crumpled up and tossed away, along with the stale content on it. His attention went back to the sink and he swiped a hand in front of the censor and began washing them.

 _'...Why do you always have to ruin a good moment Damian...?'_ The previous words of his father raddled his mind.

"Because, I'm a perfect mistake."

 

 

Their altercation had shaken Damian into silence. The boy sat across from his father angrily as he picked apart his food. He was disgusted with the situation and his father, but mainly at himself for acting so childish in public. His cold eyes stayed fixated on the silverware cutting into his food, and his eyes never landed on his father. The two sat in silence with the occasional glance from Bruce but he never returned it.


	7. My Addictions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Falling

 

The bike decelerated and finally came to a complete stop. A thin metal kickstand was relocate from under the vehicle to the concrete floor. Two black laceless bottoms collided with the ground. Tim unscrews the enclosed motorcycle helmet from his head and places it in the comfort of his side.

He shakes his head letting his hair bounce and regain shape. The bats in the cave happily let out their screeches, flying low to greet the young male. Alfred must have fed them to be so active at this time. His cape dragged behind him as he made his way towards the main computer area of the bat cave.

He approaches the computer to find Bruce carefully analyzing data on the large bright screen in front of him. The man is dressed in his dark suit with the bat symbol resting on his bosom. His cowl hung over his face stretching down to the sleek cape wrapping around his shoulders to race down his back. Right now, he should probably be referred to as Batman.

Tim glanced up at the large monitor to see a picture of Lex Luthor, followed by a string of text.

"What are you working on?" Tim enquired resting an arm on the chair Batman was working in.

"League Business." The answer was short and straight to the point. Tim wasn't in the mood to pry the man for more details and moved on to the next topic.

"Where's Damian?"

"In the training room."

"You let him back in there?" Tim was surprised the kid was getting privileges already. It just a bit too early for his taste. But it would be nice to check up on the poor kid.

"Yes, he's been improving." Batman replied without facing the former Robin.

Tim nods and takes his arm off the man's chair. He makes his way to the specified location to find the boy going through a simulation. He's angrily swinging his swords at the defenseless training dummies. The blade slices through them like a knife through warm butter. Tim could see the pent of rage in his movements as he fought violently and aggressively. Maybe Damian was just shaking off the cobwebs from such a long break. Or it's probably just Damian, being Damian.

Whatever had gotten the little brat so heated to tear up the equipment, was brushed off as Tim stood from a distance and continued to study the boy. The former robin stares through lenses of guilt. The fight he had with Damian at the dinner table haunted his thoughts and he was certain Damian hadn't forgotten the event either. But it wasn't like Tim was wrong for saying what he said. He was simply tired of the twerp treating him like an obstacle. Besides, some of the stuff he had said was true, and Tim was not some mile stone that the kid could just kick down in order to ingratiate Bruce. It wasn't right that the boy's father even let the kid treat everyone the way he does. As if Damian got a free pass to act out just because he was his blood related child. Damian was pampered like a prince, and was allowed to do almost anything he wanted, with or without permission. It didn't matter if he was not allowed to do something, because the boy would do what he wanted anyway and Bruce did very little to stop him. Wait—was he jealous?

No.

No, no, no. Tim wasn't jealous. Of course he wasn't jealous of that little kid.

...

He was just explaining the unfairness of the situation he was in. Hey, he had feelings too and did not appreciate that kid marching all over them all of the time. So he spoke his mind, and although he feels a bit regretful, he shouldn't be. Damian had probably already gotten over it and would soon hit him with a new wave of insults anyway. The kid was hardheaded and stubborn like his dad, so he had probably toned out half of the crap Tim had ranted about. So he shouldn't have such a big chip on his shoulder over Damian. Yep yep, Tim was fine, and Damian was fine.

Damian he finally stopped his performance and looked in Tim's direction. He looked back meeting those dark anger eyes the kid always had.

"Drake." Damian stated firmly.

"And hello to you too." Tim replied, the conversation had just started and it was already growing awkward.

"What do you want?" The boy huffed as Tim approached him. He regrets this encounter more than the previous night.

"To see... how you're doing." Tim uncomfortably answers. Damian always had some type of stick in an area when Tim actually tried to be nice.

"I'm doing fine." Damian says and let's his sword fall to his side. Tim caught a faint twinkle in his fiery eyes but thought nothing of it.

"Hey, if you're not too busy, maybe we would could have a quick spare. You know, since you're no longer on punishment." Tim suggested hoping to get the kid a little bit interested in his proposal.

"Ha, that's such an easy victory for me. Are you sure Drake?" Tim tries not to frown from the sly grin the kid had and is only happy to boost his enthusiasm. Damian had been dragging himself around so sluggishly lately, and to see that he was finally allowed to at least train made Damian happy, making Tim somewhat happy as well. So, why not do the kid a quick favor and fight with him... without you know, Damian trying to kill him.

"Yeah I'm sure, but on one condition."

"Go on."

"You can't use your sword, and I won't use my staff." Tim grinned.

"I'm completely versatile without my sword, you on the other hand are only putting yourself in a handicap." The boy smiled. Tim could see the boy cracking out of his shell some more. Pushing his own emotions to the side, it was good to see Damian getting back to his _old self._

The two go to put up their unnecessary items. Tim places his helmet down and lets his staff chill next to it. Damian slides his sword into it's sheath and places it on the counter Tim had his belongings on. Tim goes to help the boy with cleaning up the dismantled dummies and training boards. Damian had stayed to himself during this and didn't give much attention to Tim. But when the two had finally set up in their preferred fighting stances, the natural fire sparked back into his eyes.

"When do we start?" Damian asked bouncing slightly to lighten his movement.

"I'm ready when you are." Damian took this as a signal to strike first, which he did. The boy rushed towards Tim and made his first move by thrusting a fist towards his stomach. Tim responded with a quick block followed by another which was almost unanticipated. Damian continued his assault with a swift maneuver towards his face that was weaved. His throws were wild and filled with untempered emotion.

"You're being sloppy." Tim told the boy. He sounded a bit like Dick but brushed the thought out of his mind as Damian continued to strike.

"Weeks without training can do that." Damian defended pulling his body into the motion a of roundhouse kick. Tim anticipates the easy move and girds himself for an upper body block. But Damian's action was actually a quick sweep under Tim's legs causing him to fall onto the training floor. Dang, he had really fallen for that. Shaking my head. Damian let out a sharp battle cry as he goes for the finishing blow on the older bird. Before Damian could get the last hit in, Tim swiftly rolled out of the way and bounced back to his feet. He didn't have the strong fighting capability the other former robins had. He wasn't flexible like Dick and did not have the emotional drive Jason had. But he excelled in studying his opponents and outsmarting them. Right now he wasn't doing a good job at it but he was going to get in game. Just think of that last hit as a warm up.

He noticed that Damian's hits were explicitly uncontrolled, and although carried a lot force, were not as sharp as they were before. Tim was satisfied with a quick plan he thought of and let the pieces fall into place. He gets tight in a defensive stance and lets the boy continue to swing at him, block after black he waits for the opportunity for Damian to leave his center open. When the moment arrives Tim lands a punch on him sending him back a bit.

Damian growls and pounces at Tim attacking his at face again. For such a small kid, Damian had a huge vertical as his feet were in the perfect area to end Tim with a quick kick to his temple. Tim lifted his arms to push the boy away from him but Damian only used the leverage of his arm to jump into the air and flip onto Tim's back with a quick thud. It took some of the wind out of Tim's lungs just from the impact alone, but now the boy had his arms neatly clamped around his neck. It was clear he was waiting for Tim to surrender. But the Red Robin wasn't ready to give up just yet.

"Give up." Damian hissed in Tim's ear as he tightened his grip around his esophagus.

Tim tapped at the boy's arms as air continued to escape his body. He was trying to scrape this little demon off of his back but he wouldn't budge. Tim then grabbed a hold of one of Damian's arms and squeezed hard. It caused the smaller boy to let out an unusual squeak before Tim tore the kid off of him and thrusted him to the ground. It confused Tim a little bit. It sounded more like a helpless animal cry than being on edge in the battle. Maybe he took the boy by surprise. He has been out of it for a while.

Damian landed hard on his back in a daze as Tim regained his breath. The boy didn't get up from the ground which Tim felt triumphant with.

"Looks like I Wo—" he was cut short by a quick dodge of a flying object.

"What the heck!" He turned around to see a batarang sticking in the wall. That was seriously too close for comfort!

"I said we can't use our weapons!" Tim angrily spat.

"No, you said I can't use my sword and you can't use your staff." Damian corrected leaning up from the floor.

"Fair enough." Tim spoke calming down and reached his hand out to help the boy up. To be honest, he was expecting Damian to pull some crap and try to attack him during his kind gesture. However, Damian took the boy's hand and let Tim pull him off the ground. Damian? Accepting defeat?

In what realm?

"As I was saying before you rudely interrupted me, looks like I won." Tim cheerfully smiled.

"Tim one, Damian zerooo."

Damian folded his arms, "you only won because I haven't trained in a while. But don't worry Drake, pay back will surely come your way." No matter how much he disliked the kid, Tim was relieved to see Damian's definition of a bubbly personality come to life.

"Is that a promise?" Tim egged on.

"It certainly is."

 

Tim had done a nice gesture for the young boy, but it wasn't enough to dig out some of that dark gritty tension deep inside him. Damian was alone most of the time. Alone with his thoughts and alone with his temptations. 

  
~~~

  

Cutting starts to make its way into the boys routine. The thin metal mutation device had ended up in his possession more often than before. Everyday he would wake up underwater, looking up he could see the sunlight reaching for him. His father was reaching for him, his loving arms morphed in the reflection of the sparkling cool blue surface. Looking down he could see his mother's submarine lurking at the bottom of the ocean. The corpses of his pass teachers sinking slowly to the bottom through schools of fish and other passing creatures. Metal chains dug into his ankles and his wrist, as a rock dragged his body into the abyss.

He needed something to free him from his restraints. The small air bubbles were escaping his lunges and fleeing to the surface. These chains needed to be cut—

Crimson liquid would swell like baking bread and roll down his arm. The blue midnight moon would cry as it watched him purposely separate his skin. Or the early morning sun would silently pray as he soaked up the remaining droplets with disposable paper. Who knew it was so addicting to construct your own railway. You just stack the wooden slabs next to each other, one by one. The next station of the Damian Wayne train would surely be at his neck in no time.

He hated the fact that cutting himself was so comforting... it was as if someone or something was holding him closely every time he slit his wrist. The warmth would devour every inch of his body, sparking from the site of the wound. He coveted his father embracing him with that tenderness, soothing him by saying everything would be okay. Telling him that he loved him, that he was proud of him. He craved for Dicks big heart to have vacant space for him too. He wanted to be worthy enough to be valued like everyone else. He wished he would stop giving Alfred such a hard time and ridiculing his position as the butler. He desired for Tim's forgiveness for every wrong he had done to him. It wasn't fair to the boy that he was constantly mean towards him.

  
But none of that ever came knocking at his door. So... he found his escape through that blade. Sometimes he wished he could let go and slug down into the drain like his forsaken blood. Of course he had preferred a superior tool to the tiny razor blade he had. His sword was too lengthy and although easy for him to accomplish, was too tiring to attempt. One of his batarangs would be proficient. The blade was much sharper and smooth allowing effortless glides through his flesh. The razor blade he possessed was puny and beginning to dull. Regardless however, he wasn't allowed to use his Robin weaponry outside of training. So instead of fighting against it and sneaking something up to his room, he decided to stick with his first sharp object.

But it did not provide the amount of pain his lust yearned for. It always hurt when the small blade sliced through his body and his first time adrenaline spikes had evolved his experience into a perfect high. Settling into the routine had lessened the pizazz of it, making it less fulfilling. But he had become too dependent to cutting to give up and drop the blade for good. So the gashes became deeper and longer. They looked ugly but Damian was happy he felt less empty inside.

He had always been ashamed to hurt himself whenever the urge fell over him. It was absolutely pathetic..The physical pain never mattered to Damian, but easing his stabbing mental agony and torment was everything. It was because he was so emotional and mentally influential that had caused this spiral into chaos. He had always been driven by the desire to please an authority figure. At first it was his mother and his grandfather, his whole life revolved around them. He killed for them, he pushed himself to deadly heights to satisfy them. He did so many things a kid his age should never be doing, and for what? To be in charge of a terrorist organization? To govern the whole world? Well...He didn't want to do that anymore.... his new everything was his father and making him happy. He wanted to be his father, he was born to take on the characteristic of the man to every degree. To fit into the mold his father wanted. To be the perfect son. At the moment he was in the process of breaking himself down to Bruce's level, but it was excruciating difficult. Curving his blood lust was agonizing. The only way he knew how to solve his problems was through forceful conflicts, but if that's not an option, what do you do?? How are you supposed to act if everything you know if wrong?

Killing his wrist was a habit that had only been done at night before he went to bed. They would die during the night and would be buried under the gauze and bandages to be uncovered the next night. Then it had moved to night and morning. He would burst from his sheets from nightmares and was triggered to fix it, the only way he knew how. So hurting himself before he went to school was added to his routine. Soon, he got in the habit of cutting while in school too. It beat the old habit of resisting the urge to punch the crap out of the first kid he saw walk by him.

It was a huge stress reliever, especially when someone decided to start bothering him. One day while he was sitting in one of his periods the girl behind him continuously tugged at the back of his hair, trying to pull the dark strands out of his scalp. It was a childish irritating act that angered him greatly. He turned around and politely as he could, asked the girl to stop, in which she acted as if no wrong was done. It caused him to huffed and turn back around to complete his work. When the touching had started up again he spun around fiercely frowning at the girl, asking her to stop again. Her countenance was not one of compliance but he wasn't going to have a staring contest with her. So he returned back to his class work once more. The third time the girl poked the dragon, Damian raised his hand in the air, seeking for his teachers aid. Instead of a helping hand, he was told to stop being a distraction to the rest of the class. This ultimately caused a good portion of the class to erupt in snickering and soft giggling.

The fourth and finally time it happened, he expeditiously grabbed her hand while it was still in the motion to reach the back of his head. She looked horrified as her fingers curled up in Damian's grasp. His face was padded with an apex predator gleam. He had realized what he was doing and quickly let her go. What was he supposed to do,break her fingers? That was what he wanted to do, crush her digits slowly and audibly enough to hear the splintering and splits of the bone marrow. But he withstood his appetite for blood, arose from his seat, and violently stormed out the classroom.

He zoomed past the boy's bathroom and went straight towards the nurses office. He was definitely not dealing with any stray boy's bumping into him in that confined space. Instead he kept three items in his pocket. An ordinary blue ballpoint pen, a slip of paper and a pencil sharpener.

He stuck a hand into his pants pouch and fished out the pen and the piece of paper. The paper was pressed against his free hand as the pen danced clumsily spreading the ink to form his teacher's signature. The people he was under the tutelage of made it easy to break down and master their quirks and habits. So forging their signature was another effortless task for the young assassin.

After the paper was signed and dated he stuck it in his other pocket, along with the pen. Following this he fumbled around in the first pocket to the pen sharpener. It was from one of his art sets and was not manufactured with cheap quality. The screw securing it was loose causing the blade the jiggle in and out of comfort. He brushed his finger hastily against the blade, letting a red dew droplet roll on his smooth leafy surface. It was a swift cut that didn't run deep. He stuffed the sharpener back into his sunken pocket and speedily made his way to the nurses office.

He pushed the door to the nurses open with his good hand and walked in. A woman looked up from her cluttered desk behind a counter and beamed at him.

"What's your name?" She questioned.

"Damian." He responded unfeelingly; but it caused her eyes to light up.

"You're Bruce Wayne's kid? I've heard a lot of about you around school," she playfully shakes her head. Her symbolic gesture of good faith relieves Damian. He didn't want her working off the false bias that spread rampant through the building.

"So. What seems to be the problem?" She asked bubbly giving her attention to the young boy. The office was soothingly quiet as her computer speaker softly sang an unknown toon. Health posters were posted on the vanilla kissed wall. A counter lay in the corner of the room. Above it rested a range of glossy glass jars filled with different simple medical supplies. You had your general jar of bandaids and so on.

Damian strolled up to the counter and showed the woman his finger. He noted that she never asked him for a pass to enter her inhabitants.

" I cut my finger." He spoke timidity which surprised him slightly. The full, plump and fleshed out confidence he commonly had, was curtailed unexpectedly. The woman stands up from her rolling chair and examines the boy's finger.

"Paper?" She asks in a way that seemed to occur often.

"Something like that..." Damian mumbles as the woman hands him a quick tissue before making her way towards the supplies.

"Well, the goods news is that this is an easy fix." She smiles and grabs a cotton ball with a smattering of peroxide and a bandaid. She takes Damian's hand and presses the cloth ball on the petite wound; Damian watches patiently. Her movement was alien to Alfred's craftsmanship, but her positive attitude was treasured.

"You must be a really tough kid," she joked.

"How so?" Damian questions unsure what she was referring to.

"You didn't even flinch from the peroxide. I usually get kids that at least whine about it. Doesn't it sting?" She inquired as she peeled the wrappers off the bandaid.

The peroxide was substantially nothing compared to his life at the moment, but Damian thought up of something that didn't seem too strange to fancy her question," Yes, it stung faintly." His answers were so poorly structured. This whole little operation he half-assed was dishonoring, and he mentally beat himself for it. Nothing he had been doing recently was perfected the way he wanted it to be.

The woman wrapped the small bandaid around his finger. "There you're all done." She hummed.

"Thank you." Damian replies but doesn't turn to leave, " can I use your bathroom..?"

He anticipated a firm no, like his father would have said.

"Of course! You can use my bathroom whenever you would like. I know how some of you kids can feel uncomfortable changing or using the restroom with the other kids. I'm not strict on my rules, so feel free to stop by when you want to." Her answer baffled Damian and shaken his heart to the core. How could one even mustered up the stomach to relay such kind and gentle words to a foul beast such as himself. She must have known about the children he had sent down to her office to be examined for minor or even manor injuries. She must have saw the boy with the sling, yet her temperament was light and airy towards Damian making his heart sing a broken melody. But this had to be some illusionary trick that she bestowed upon everyone. Damian wasn't being endowed with anything special.

The small child nods with a strained smile and goes into her bathroom. The rest was history.

~~~

Damian would wake up after drowning in his dreams in a sudden violent panic. His dark blood shot eyes were masked by the darkness, but would sometimes flicker in the light of the burning fireplace near his bedside. He envied how bright the flames burned. He had stopped using the old thing a while ago so it would have only been set by his father or Alfred.

Titus would raise his head from the still carpet and whimper softly. Damian glanced over to his dog and sighed as his alertness drifted to a shallow grogginess. The Great Dane watched carefully as the boy rolled out of bed to put out the long lasting fire. It should have died down while he was asleep but managed to push through the night. Damian took the fire poker and spread out the combustibles. Afterwards he made his way into the bathroom.

The boy stripped out of his long sleeve top and bottoms before slipping into the tub. Hot steaming water sprinkled on his skin when he twisted the faucet. His body was so ugly and the collections of scars both small and large, yelled at him for it. His battle scars stayed silent and did not stop the scornful punishment of his wrist. He wished he was strong like he was before. He wished he was that unstoppable child he once was. But, so many things had changed, it was impossible to see hope for his old mindset. He let the hot liquid beat against his skin as he bathed slowly. Titus had probably waited a half an hour before his master emerged from the bathroom.

Damian found a pair of slacks and slips them on and then proceeds to open the closet. He wasted no time to grab the first turtleneck he saw and pull it over his head. His scars were now hidden but he was running out of uniform shirts. Well, he had plenty of uniform shirts, but they were all short sleeve polos that he wouldn't dare give his attention to. And if he kept the momentum of this grizzly act, he'd soon find himself out of first aid. But today is today and the worries of tomorrow will come later. Definitely not the type of philosophy he would have gone by, but thinking of the countless events of the future would only weigh him down with more stress.

The clever boy was aware that his actions would leave a trail connecting to him. When he cuts other objects become a bloody mess as well. Not to mention all the ridicule his classmates sent home with him. From mean threatening letters to trinkets used as jokes, they were all throw into his small bin. The mean notes from his classmates to the soaked tissues and old bandages piled up in his bathroom trash can. All that foul smelling evidence had to be disposed of and it had to be done quickly. If not, it wouldn't be long until Alfred discovered the mess and begin to ask questions.

He returned to the bathroom and gathered up the garbage in the black bag it was held in. Titus follows the boy in the bathroom. His master bloody scent fills his snout making him nudge his head against the boy side with worry. The boy places a hand on the black dogs temple as he stands up with the trash. Titus quickly goes to work, trying to sniff out the alarming content in the bag. Damian pulls it away shamefully and finds a black coat in his room. Titus follows and demands to unravel the mysteries of the trash bag. But, the boy is still reluctant to give answers to his dog as he pulls his arms through the coat sleeves.

"Come on Titus." Damian yawns as he makes his way towards the door. The dog follows intently because he had not forgotten about the bag.

The sun threw freshly ripe shades of yellow and orange against the grass. The early spring breeze carried the smell of cut lawn clippings and garden flowers. He thought that Alfred had done a good job tending to the garden, and the roses look incredible. Except, there was on rose that stood out from the rest. It was wilting and the pedals were darkened and crinkled. It was clearly dying and Damian did the honors of releasing it from pain and welcoming it to the next realm. He placed the broken plant on the ground in front of it's family.

Damian's face was shallow and borderline white. He stopped caring to _stay in character_ when he was alone. It was no longer worth his time to force emotions when no one was around. Titus was there but wasn't causing much trouble intervening with his odd behavior like Dick or Tim would. Titus was alive and well, he was happy to be with his owner. But Damian's dog was bleeding out on the ground slowly. It was dying before his very eyes.

"Titus, I think I'm depressed..." Damian sighed looking into the distance of the backyard. The Great Dane whined softly as he rubbed his head against the boy's sleeves. It caused Damian to pull away bashfully, as he had grown increasingly sensitive to things touching his arms. So he began to walk with the hound to take the tension away from himself.

" I am not sure how I began to feel this way..but .....Sometimes... I feel the urge to disappear. As if everyone would be blissful without me in the picture." Damian found it sad that he had turn to talking to a dog that could not understand English. Nonetheless he knew his pet could sense the agony which comforted him to have someone to talk to. Titus followed Damian as he continued on with his spiel. The dog trampled on the grass, sticking his head towards the earthly dirt looking for anything interesting. But when Damian spoke, he always returned his body to attention.

"This is all supposedly conjured in my head. It's not real,right? But... these feelings and thoughts I'm having... are so real to me." Damian whispered lowering his head towards the ground. Heart ache conquered all of his words.

"I don't deserve what I have... I don't deserve father, Alfred, Drake, Grayson, or even you... I don't deserve any of it....." he lamented clutching the trash tightly. He paused for a moment causing Titus to stop walking. The boy was in a deep grieving ponder.

"Do you think everyone would be happy if I was gone? As in gone forever." His voice was glossed with soft sorrow.

"Dead."

"Father would love that." He spoke with genuine belief. It seemed to shake Titus as his eyes groaned. Damian looks away and begins to walk again.

"I'm sorry.... I don't know what I am anymore. I don't know who I am... There's nothing life has to offer me... I'm only worth something when I'm robin, but now it's like...what can I do...?" He gave the universe a tragic laugh.

"I wasn't even a good enough robin...."

His voice started to crack as he sniffled "I can't... I can't do anything right. All my life I was supposed to meet my mother's expectations. To make her happy with my performances... and at the end of that, I... couldn't do it."

"No no Titus, I'm not saying I want to go back to being— that woman is dead to me... but..I just... want my parents to be happy with me..... and father hasn't been that pleased lately."

Damian had a bit of a new realization, "He's never been happy with me... the only reason he keeps me around is because I'm his son... he has to do it, for his stupid code of justice mush....He loves those adoptables more than he cares for me." He finished with strong envy coating the thick darkness in his heart.

"But... that's not his fault. It's mine. I make him resent me so much, I give him a hard time, I don't follow his instructions, and I'm the one that stresses him out.... I probably do it more than the villains." It was a joke but he knew he was never on his father's good side.

"I'm useless when it comes executing his tasks correctly. So if I wasn't here... I would be taking a lot off his shoulders..."

Damian and Titus stopped when they got to the perimeter of the yard. He looked over at the large Dane and sighed. Titus returned his gaze and rubbed against his side.

"I... have to take care of something, Titus." Damian spoke as he dug his hands into the wall. He trusted that the dog would wait for him to return. Damian then begins his climb over the brick wall. He hoped no one saw him misbehaving by sneaking out.

  
~~~

 

 

Although he had been getting away with his strange behavior, not everything had gone unnoticed.It was getting increasingly difficult to go into the locker room and change for PE. Other children would continue to anticipate his odd deportment when walking into the gym. It drew a lot of unwanted attention;their eyes were regularly revolving around his whole frame, studying him with perverse intent. They would taunt him, and some accused him of doing what he knew he was doing.

' _Damian why are you always wearing extra clothes to gym.'_

_'What the heck is he doing wearing an extra shirt to gym everyday. Its so hot outside.'_

_'Maybe he cuts himself hahaha.'_

_'Nah I think he's just weird.'_

All of these malign exploits done by his classmates on a daily basis would be punishable by death. The constant goading scratching at his mind would have caused the old Damian to lash out vehemently. All of these kids would feel his vengeance aching through their inflicted wounds. He would at least attempted to stop himself from preforming anything regretful. But the pupa he had wrapped himself in for the past couple of weeks metamorphosed into a divergent being. Damian awoke and scratched his claws into the sticky chrysalis walls, to emerge into the world in a new light. His veiny wings performed a lengthy stretch, reaching towards the sky. The fragile wings flap opalescent shades of black. His heart pumping thick sable blood through his arteries feeding the extension of his body.

He wasn't entirely certain of what he had become. This new form he had taken could have been interpreted as a dirty moth, munching at the joy of life like tearing through clothes, or a hellish dark butterfly causing utter chaos from the mere flap of its wings. Damian's gradual shift in persona didn't sit well with him, and he wanted all of this angst to cease. But butterflies can't turn back into caterpillars.

He was embarrassed to change for an activity. Regardless of how little people watched him change he felt the pressure of everyone leaning on his shoulders. All of them had to be staring, no matter how many times he calculated swaying a person's gaze from scars. It was as if the thin lines were beating through his clothes, making their presence known. Superman wouldn't even need his X-ray vision to see the boy's work of skin art. It was too much to bare changing in the open and eventually, he migrated to bathroom.

Damian slipped into a vacant stall and locked the door heedfully. There were no distractions or outside forces accompanying him in the stall. Sometimes however, some of the boys would bang against the thick plastic and metal separating them for Damian to come out. It was sickening to do nothing as kids tried to defile his privacy and throw toilet paper over the stall door. If he didn't feel completely secure in the stall for any reason, he'd make his way to the nurses office. Yet, he still felt the aura of something observing him unsparingly. It made him feel his father's disappointment bouncing off the bathroom walls.

Changing by himself was supposed to cure this sickening illness of embarrassment. It was supposed to confirm that no one would see how much of a disappointment he had become. But, he was mortified to discovery that he had been exposed to majority of the school.

He was exasperated and horrified to find out that someone had air dropped a picture of his stomach-churning secret all around the school. How did it happen? When did they get the time to take the picture? When did he let his guard down for this to happen? He did not know, but what he did have knowledge of, was how discomforted he became from it. It was truly the most heartbreaking shameful event that had ever happen to him. Everyone had seen him at his lowest point, his absolute worse, the most venerable part of himself was now a public display. He was a complete mockery and seen as a weak insect by all of his peers. He was nothing.

He decided he was done playing these sick guess what's under the shirt games with them. He stops participating in EP entirely and sat on the sideline benches. It stirred up a lot of mania but Damian expected that reaction. Some kids thought it was a bright idea to insult him harshly by taking out rulers in his presence. They would take the thin twelve inch wood and pretend to gnaw against their forearms. The act of pretending to cut themselves in front of Damian had caught on as a trend as more students began to participate. He was completely powerless to the serpents around him. His self confidence was completely shattered and he wasn't sure how to pick up the pieces. What was he supposed to do? He didn't have any ideas to subside the torment he was being put through. Damian was so very alone in a pit of derision and ridicule by everyone around him. He only wished for his soul to be grind to dust.

  
~~~

  
Damian had noticed his body appeared different. Besides the grotesque scars on his arm, his psyche had shrunken. His muscular form had softened, and his skin was no longer the thick juicy light olive it once was, but a sallow pallid looking shade that was clearly unhealthy. His eating habits had increasingly gotten worse and became corybantic and inconsistent. His cheeks were only slightly depressed and not very visible but complimented his sunken eyes. He didn't look like a skeleton but his body was not in the tiptop shape he was expected to be in. The short delay of training could be to blame but his empty stomach would growl otherwise.

He was used to his body screaming at him, begging for solace when he pushed himself to his very limits and had settled to accept passing out. So when his body cried in pain for something to fill his abdomen, he could strap on a fake grin and say he wasn't hungry. It was okay if he didn't eat, he didn't contribute to his family and was dead weight. He was just an unnecessary mouth to feed.

However, Damian did not abandon eating all together. It was like bird feeding, to pick and jab at the food without doing much damage to the plate. He ate full meals on occasion but never feasted into a dish with desire and pleasure. It was repulsing to stuff all of that grub into his mouth all of the time.

But, he had to maintain a natural persona, so when he sat at the table with the family he had to look normal. He noticed he was neglecting eating more often from the weird glances he had received, and focused more on deceiving them. When Alfred placed all the dishes on the table, he would reach for anything he could find. It didn't matter what it was, all of the food was delicious but the many textures shifting in his maw made him queasy. Nonetheless, he swallowed the foods and went to grab more.

Forcing himself to eat was rough due to the fact that he would usually overshoot the amount his dysfunctional body could handle. He was left feeling stuffed and comfortable in his body. The bloating of his stomach was not significant for anyone to care, but it was severely disturbing to Damian. He hated feeling like a fat greedy pig chowing down on this undeserving food. So, instead of letting the food settle in his body and properly digest to provide the essential nutrients he needed he would do something else.

After he was done at the dinner table, he would scurry up to his room and into his bathroom. He kneeled above the porcelain rim of his toilet and waited for his body to react. If his meal did not come up instinctively, the boy would take two fingers and slowly work them to the back of his throat. The wriggling of his fingers unsettled his insides as they traveled deeper within him. Damian continued until he body reflexes kicked in. A quick wave gushed out of his throat into the bowl below it. Thick discolored goop splashed in the water below and thick chunks of semi digested food slide slowly down the sides. His mouth was painted in the horrible vomit and the stench clung to his nose hairs. His fingers were coated with the throw up with little dots of vegetables. He would sit and stare at the mess he had created. Damian was losing all of his self control and didn't know if he could regain it.


	8. Voices in my Head

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Falling

 

It's the weekend, and Damian is glad that he could finally get a break some the hellish hole his father made him go to. Going to school was utter torture ever since someone sent the picture of his scars all around school. The heat was in the kitchen before, but now it was burnt to the ground. He could hardly control himself anymore, everything was becoming so much. The only thing he had enough strength to do was act normal and complete his school work timely... but that went along with acting normal. He was the top of his class and was the best athlete even if he didn't participate in sports. But he was never respected like he was worth anything at that school. He was an utter mistakes there and was treated poorly by everyone. However, he kept pushing through to prove to his father that he was an obedient child.

Like he was worth something.

Damian ran his pale hands up his face and through his hair. The moist palms gather a clump of black strands and yank angrily. His eyes were puffy like cotton and his pupils were a glassy red. Quivering had overtaken his body and he clenches his teeth unsure of himself.

He so done. So done with everything right now. Leaving this world was looking like a good option with every passing day. His empty eyes stare at the shower water tapping against the bottom of the tub. The water is warm as it had always been, and calls for the boy to step in. It demands to caress the boy's skin, to hold his limbs in the air and slowly kiss the scabby wounds. Damian steps into the tub and lets the water stroke his body, letting it run down his arms and legs. One arm was old news, it was busted and battered and had already received all the kisses the steaming shower could give. The other arm was new to this game. It wasn't long before Damian moved to his this one, the one that was pure as snow and untouched by his coping mechanisms. But now it was scarred and awful and reflected its counterpart. Damian had not done as much damage to this forearm, but the amount of slashes was enough to make anyone disappointed in him. The boy didn't stop this nonsense with his upper body. He had gotten the bright idea to start nicking at his thigh too. The slice marks started to line up near his pelvic bone and work it's way towards his knee. There was something about cutting into his leg that gave him a different satisfaction than cutting his upper body. It had a different flavor. Perhaps it was the abundance of thick muscular flesh that covered his bones on his lower body. The incision sight was filled with plentiful meat to carelessly dive into. A deep ocean with plump red waves.

Damian felt his heart skip a beat as he pondered his father's reaction to what he had done to himself.

_Weak_

_Pathetic_

_Unfit to be a robin_

_A joke_

_Useless garbage_

_Dead weight_

_An interference_

_A distraction_

_A walking charity case_

It caused him to fold in on himself and clutch his knees rigidly. He shook in the fetus position he had taken at the bottom of the porcelain. Damian would never be loved by anyone. He would never be wanted by anyone. He would never be needed by anyone. He wasn't good enough.

His life was so meaningless.

  
Damian reached over to the side of the tub and grabbed a black bottle and squeezed white content into his palm. It was a miracle he had not neglected his hygiene by now. The glob of shampoo plopped on the top of his scalp as he gently began to massage it in between his black locks. Shower was possibly apart of the coping process as well; It was a love hate relationship. Damian forced himself to see what he was doing. Punishment to witness the monstrosities he continued to commit against himself. His body was a shameful curse that crippled his mind, seeing his being in its full glory. The gruesome scars that smiled at him in the mirror. All of it had to be covered up. But as a shower should be, it was relaxing and puts people at ease. You feel a little less dead inside from the warmth of the water.

There's not much to say about the shower besides it cleaned his physical frame. But very little scratched the surface of his mental structure. After ceasing the water by turning the faucet, he climbed out of the tub and wrapped a towel around his waist concealing his lower body scars. Another towel, of miniature size, was draped around his head, soaking up the left over droplets in his hair. His face wasn't as sunken anymore and he was sure he could pass as his usual self. Damian took one last look in the foggy mirror before exiting the steamed up bathroom.

He scampered towards his bedroom door and locks it passionately. No one should see him in this state. The beating red lines burned like a fiery furnace, and the flames could not be put out. So he cowered behind that door, hoping no eyes would lay upon such a sight.

Damian stepped back from the door and turned towards his closet. When opening the it, he found that he didn't have many options. He had gone through almost all of his usable clothing. But he couldn't walk out of his room with nothing. His fingers filed through the hangers until he found something presentable. He pulled the attire out of the closet and tossed it on his bed. He then grabbed a pair of sweatpants and threw them to the side as well. Damian closed the closet and approached his dresser. He pulled out a pair of drawls, socks, and an undershirt. The towels were off now and he pulls on his undergarments and steps up to his bed. The black sweatshirt was pulled out of the hangers socket. It wasn't anything special, just a black hoodie with drawstrings. He pulled the hoodie over his head and slipped his arms in. He got his pants and repeated the process. A tingle of bliss trickled down his spine, he was secure, his secret was safe. Everything is as it should be, the boy had everything he needed to exit his domain.

His door creaked open, for he was feeling somewhat adventurous today. He had stayed up in his room for too long and wondered what the others had been doing without him. Damian crept down the stairs, his black hoodie hugging him close. He held onto the rail loosely trailing down.

A glare grew on his face as he settled on the image below him, "Drake, what are you doing in my way?" Tim sat sluggishly slouching on the steps in front of him. His purple t shirt was loose fitting and his legs were sprawled out comfortably in a pair of gray jeans. He glanced up at the younger Wayne from his own phone and places it down. He waves, and sits up to give the boy his attention.

"I was waiting for you. And you know, this staircase is pretty big. You could have just walked around me." Tim explained to the boy, hoping he'll catch on to the concept of manners and being a considerate human being.

Damian gave a quick glance around the manor, it was noticeable quiet. No animal noises or footsteps, nothing besides the two boys. When he speaks he disregards Tim's statement, "Where are the others, where's father?"

"Bruce and Alfred went out. It's just me and you." Tim answered.

"That's unfortunate." Damian murmured rolling his eyes and looking away from the teen. He was stuck in a huge house all alone, with _Tim._

"Yeah I already know that." Tim let out a huff to regain himself before speaking again. "Anyway, I'm sorry about the other day... I shouldn't have said any of that stuff out loud." He uttered with a pinch of sheepishness that sounded more guilty than anything else. Tim hadn't apologized in their last encounter but the child was surprised he even decided to put his pride on the line for this.

"Your apology is accepted," Damian's answered in a snobby fashion, with a bit of a forced _humph_ to it. The boy was struggling to tame the dark pain simmering beneath the surface.

' _Why... is he apologizing... to me? He doesn't need to do that..I don't deserve this type of pity...the truth is a hurtful thing... don't lie to me to make me feel better... you meant all of the words you said to me..but..... I'm okay with it. I understand now because of you, because of 'them...'_

"What's with the hoodie?" Tim pointed out at the boy. It caused Damian to look at himself a bit puzzled.

"What, am I not allowed to wear a hoodie?"

"I'm not saying that... but it's like seventy five degrees outside." Tims eyes squinted, he was perplexed as well.

"I... always wear clothing like this." Damian defended.

"I've never seen you wear that hoodie—like ever. You only have a hood for your uniforms right??" Tim felt as if he was being overbearing, and the new look of attitude on Damian's face pushed the notion even further.

"I'm not understanding what the complication is." Damian stated. He took a seat on the stairs next to Tim. It had caused Damian's heart to flutter as anxiety began to claw at his insides. Maybe he was too close for comfort to the other boy, but Tim didn't seem to mind as he continued their confusing conversation.

"Aren't you gonna get hot? It's not exactly nighttime right now—...you know what you're probably gonna get mad at me again for asking. Imma stop, I'm sorry." It was just an article of clothing after all and wasn't really that important. If Damian liked to wear hoodies in the heat, then he'd let the kid wear them. It wasn't Tim's concerns to tell the boy what type of fashion the kid was allowed to rock.

The two fell silent for a minute. They both had their eyes drift into different directions letting awkwardness sit right between them. Damian let his pupils glide towards the ground, studying it lazily. Tim sat up and began typing away on his cellphone. The tapping of his fingers against the screen rang in Damian's ears. Then he abruptly stopped and let out a sigh.

The conversation was ephemeral and the room shifted towards the background noise.

Tim grabbed a hold of the rail and lifted himself up from the step. But, Damian didn't look up at him and continued to stare. The older boy made his way down the stairs and disappeared into the next room. It caused Damian's heart to sink a little. Although they were never the closest of people, Damian appreciated his company, for his warmth soothed the boy. What had he done to drive him away?

' _Stupid_

_Useless_

_Worthless_

_Piece of Garbage_

_Look at what you did_

_You're a fool_

_An idiotic selfish fool_

_You can't even do the simplest task as to hold a conversation. You just came downstairs and you're already driving people away._

_You're pathetic_

_Honestly Damian_

_You give yourself too much credit. You saw him do what he did. Because he can. Because his value is worth more than you can even fathom. Your father loves his kids. He treasures the creations that aren't his own. But he picked them out by his own will, they were chosen and deemed satisfactory._

_But you aren't_

_And you never will be_

_Because you're a useless mistake_

_Just like he said_

_Why can't you just die? '_

  
Damian's face began to crack and crumble. The paint was chipping off of his lips, his stoic look was breaking down into misery and quiet agony. It wasn't his robin mask. But, this other facade was breaking... no... we can't have that.. not right now. You're so much stronger than this. He lowers his head into his lap, letting his arms wrap around to gird him.

 

He tensed up when a hand tapped him on the shoulder. It caused him to pick up the broken pieces of the mask and piece them back together with his salty tears as the cement. He makes sure ever chip is in place and lifts his head. He relieved when it was Tim hovering above him. Not from surprise but from the gratitude he possessed for something to fulfill his cravings. That hole he wanted to fill in his chest. Guess he was overreacting. But, the colors of lust were not painted on his face, they had slithered down into his bosom to be sucked up by his heart.

Tim waved a tan bag filled with mini pretzels. He had a bit of concern in his face as he watched Damian reattained his posture. After the older boy checked his phone again, he lowered himself next to Damian. "You want some?" He offered and took his hands and pinched the top of the bag. Tim peeled the sealed plastic open until it erupted with a popping sound. The biological son frowned and shook his head looking away.

"Why don't you wanna eat?" Tim made a face and scooped a handful of tiny snacks into his palm.

"Because that food is worthless. It has no nutritional value at all." Damian uttered with hubris. But if he was being honest, he just didn't want to eat.

"Sheesh, you didn't have to be so rude about it." Tim replied before laying some of the artificial bread on his tongue, " just think of today as a cheat day."

"I'll be completely fine without eating your junk." Damian replied. He felt as if he was forcing this entire encounter. But assuringly, Tim seemed too stupid to catch on.

"Well I also found your dog." Tim pointed out and notions towards the bottom of the stairs, and as he said, Titus stood with the jingling of his collar.

"Where was he?" Damian asked as Titus began to ascend the steps to him.

"He was in the kitchen looking outside. Your dog is kind of weird." Tim answered and put another pretzel in his mouth.

The large animal immediately began sniffing at Damian's arms. They were like magnets and caused Damian's heart to race. He nonchalantly began to stroke his fur to covered up what was happening.

"My dog is not weird Drake, he is an intelligent and beautiful creature." Which was indeed true. Titus ruffled his head against Damian's chest and gently licked his face.

"Can I give him some?" Tim questioned, holding up a hand full of petit snacks.

Damian paused for a moment before answering. He wiped the dog slobber off his cheek and spoke.

"No."

Tim make a face and put more of the pretzels to his mouth.

"Leave the feeding duty to Pennyworth." Damian finished.

"Okay I will." Tim surrendered and closed up the bag. He stood up once again and galloped down the staircase.

"Alright Damian, let's go." Tim said and began to travel back to the kitchen.

Damian got up and followed, Titus dallied behind. "What do you mean let's go?" He protested as he watched the other male put the bag back into the cabinet.

"We're going out." Tim simply stated and exited the kitchen. Damian continue to seek after the other boy.

"Elaborate Drake." He hissed.

Tim turned around to face Damian, still traveling to their destination. "Were going out."

"Wheree!"

"We're going to the mall." Tim finally gave in. Damian frowned immediately.

"We're going to the Gotham Mall?" Damian was left in disbelief and uninterested.

"Yeah we are, so come on." Tim waved traveling to the garage.

"Why are we going there?"

"Doesn't look like you have anything else better to do. You haven't gotten out of the manor in a while. So, we should do something fun." Tim had opened up the door to the garage and was already in the process of selecting a vehicle to drive. Damian kneeled down at the eye level of his dog. The beast whined softly as Damian nonverbally commanded him to go back into the manor. The dog sadly obeys letting Damian resume the conversation.

" shopping is not fun. Besides, you don't look like someone who shops for fun." Damian folded his arms and watched as Tim grabbed a pair of keys from the rack.

"I usually don't, but I need to pick up some things." Tim responded dangling a pair of keys in front of him. He flipped the trinket in a comfortable position in his hands.

"You've been given permission to take a car out Drake?"

One of the cars made a chirping sound when Tim pressed the button. "Yes I have, Damian."

"And before you say it, yes I know you can drive. The answer's no." Tim asserted as they both walked up to the non generic car.

"As if I was going to ask," Damian huffed and opened the passenger door. Tim climbed into the drivers seat and began fumbling with the chairs position. The two boys closed their doors, and Damian buckles up patiently waiting for his companion to start up the vehicle. Tim pressed another button on the keys which caused the machine to come to life. He then drops them in a small compartment and places one hand on the wheel. The other reaches into his pocket and he pulls out his phone bundled up in a white cable.

"Can you plug this in?" Tim motions as he holds his belongings out.

"Why can't you do it? With your occupation, you are able to do a simple multitask. Or am I mistaken?"

"Could you please just do one nice thing?" Tim almost begged as he put the car into motion. Damian groaned and took the objects out of his hand.

"Thank you." Tim relayed with confidence. He had gotten the boy to do something for him. Damian ignores the appreciation and sticks the cable into the USB port. He proceeds by connecting the wire to Tim's phone.

The two had pulled onto the road by now and Damian began to revert into his new norm. The distant ugly self that he strived so hard to keep under lock and key. The boy stares emotionlessly out of the transparent glass and voices swarm into his head. They're yelling and screaming at him, and chanting so many perverted words.

"It's quiet in here, we should listen to some music." Tim cuts through the thickness of the silence that had settled in the car. Damian cleaned his composure and turned towards the older teen.

"You have horrible taste in music." Damian taunted. He wasn't sure why but his mouth just opened. Whatever words departed his lips flowed natural and little thought was placed into it. It was a double edge swords. He was comfortable at the moment enough to speak but everything he said was live with no edits.

"I do not." Tim strongly inserted as he flicked his head to the side to look at Damian in the passenger seat. He then went back to the road," I think I have pretty good taste in music. I've actually been listening to a new artist."

"I doubt it." Damian sighed placing his elbow on the door handle.

"You watch tv right?" Tim grabbed his phone still looking at the road.

"On occasion."

"I think that's illegal." Damian pointed out as he watched Tim's eyes flicker back and forth from scrolling on his phone to the open scenery. " So much for having everyone in Gotham follow the rules."

"It's okay to break the rules once and a while." Tim joked as his thumb continued to surf the screen.

"You must feel like a great role model. What a great leader you are." Damian grinned.

" I try."

" I was watching this show called Rick and Morty. And they had this episode with this one artist—wait do you know what Rick and Morty is?"

" I'm aware of the show. The one with the grandfather with the blue hair." Damian responded.

"I feel like you'd like that show." Tim slowed the car up to stop in time for the awaiting red light.

"Why because of the nihilistic satire and watery science references?" Damian said, he wasn't engrossed by Tim's sell.

"Sure... but it also has some adventure elements too."

"Is that supposed to entice me?"

"No... but I thought you might have liked the show." Tim defended sluggishly.

"The show is alright, just not my cup of tea."

"Have you even watched the show? Like actually took the time to sit down and watch the show." Tim pressed, figuring the boy had just skimmed by without a good analyzing.

"I watched a couple of minutes and turned it off." The boy admitted.

"Exactly, so how are you supposed to know if you like the show??" Tim exclaimed and gave the car some gas. The light had changed.

"My intuition, hasn't failed me so far."

' _You're such a liar Damian. You should be ashamed of yourself.'_

"Give the show a chance and you might change your mind." Tim gushed.

"But as I was saying, they had Logic in one of the episodes."

"Logic? They have _logic_ in all of the episodes." Damian shook his head.

"No, Logic the musician." Tim corrected. Kids these days. He tapped one of the songs and twisted the knob to the volume. The speakers began to palpitate and the beat swam through the car. Damian frowned as he watched Tim sway his body lightly to the beat.

"You can't dance Drake."

Tim placed his phone in the slot in between their seats. "Let me live, demon spawn." Tim banter the boy, the music had taken over his body far too much to care. The melodic waves filled their ears.

"I haven't been listening that long but I think he's a pretty good artist. The song we're listening to is about anxiety."

"Okay?" Damian had turned back to the window no longer interested in the music bumping in the car.

"You've never had problems with anxiousness?" Tim asked passionately. The boy had his fair share of episodes and appreciated the artist interpretation of it.

"No." Damian states dryly.

_Lieslieslieslieslieslieslieslieslieslieslieslieslieslieslieslieslieslieslieslieslieslieslieslieslieslieslieslieslieslieslieslieslieslieslieslieslieslieslieslieslieslieslieslieslieslieslieslieslieslieslieslieslieslieslieslieslieslieslieslieslieslieslieslieslieslieslieslieslieslieslieslieslieslieslieslieslieslieslieslieslieslieslieslieslieslieslieslieslieslieslieslieslieslieslieslieslieslieslieslieslieslieslieslieslieslieslieslieslieslieslieslieslieslieslieslieslieslieslieslieslieslieslieslieslieslies_

"And even if I did, this music doesn't move me, and it would not change my situation, hypothetical if I had anxiety problems." Damian rambled.

"Insensitive." Tim trailed off before singing along with the lyrics. He had caught bits and pieces of the words, occasionally getting a couple of full verses in. But it all depended on the song.

"You said you haven't been listening for long?" Damian restated slightly annoyed with Tim's unleashed enthusiasm. He had never seen him so engaged like this before. From an outside perspective, Tim didn't seem that sparked from the music but the boy was just usually more laid back. Or uptight. He had loosened up a lot. Guess that's what music does to people.

"Guess I caught onto the words." Tim laughed and tapped the screen to skip to the next song. He seemed to think Damian was having an okay time.

"This one is called Metropolis."

" Ha Ha. What a great joke. Wow, I just absolutely adore Superman." Damian dragged with the most obvious sarcasm in the world.

"Why do you have to be so uptight Damian?"

Damian shrugs and turns back to staring lazily out the window. Tim did not respond afterwards and stayed to himself. Damian wouldn't admit it but having the music rang in his head during the ride kept his demons at bay. The fast lyrics kept him occupied and awake.

The montage of music had caused the ride to be a lot faster than it would have been in a silent car. Tim pulled up in between a pair of parallel painted strips of concrete. He eased his foot onto the breaks and when the vehicle came to a complete spot he put the car in park.

Damian clicked the button on his seatbelt and pulled the safety harness from around his frame. His sleeves stayed close to the middle of his palms.

"Wait wait, one more song." Tim chimed and Damian reluctantly sighed.

"Is this worth my time?" Damian grunted turning towards Tim.

"Yes, it's worth it. Just listen, you'll see."

Damian nestled back into the cushion of the seat and watched his sneakers as the music played. (Tbh just listen to the song 1-800. And read this) It opened up with a slow low melody rounded with the drawn out cries of some string instruments. He let the tone sink into his soul as the man in the speaker began to sing. The song started off, well relatable. Like a lot of songs that people get drawn to. It's the fact that you and the singer or the message connect, that makes you want to hear their testimony again and again. The choir reached into his heart and squeezed harshly. He felt his body grow cold as the words of wishing for death fell upon his ears. It was disturbing and blunt. But it was so true and earnest that Damian felt that black liquid drizzle out his mouth. The strong intense sincerity of the words made his body hollow out as his nails dug into his thighs, clenching his pants.

_'I can't listen to this...'_

He couldn't even get to the second round of the choir before he suddenly opened the car door and stepped out. Damian slammed the door before walking off into the parking lot towards the large layered building. His eyes were so dole and had lost their luscious color of fire. His arms clung onto each other for dear life as his eyes stay fixated on the cracking concrete under his shoes. It probably wasn't a good idea to walk with his head down but he just needed a moment to himself. Time to reflect in solitude. If a car so happened to accidentally hit him then so be it, it didn't matter anymore. Not really anyways. He dallied up to the entrance of the mall and stepped onto the sidewalk.

"Damian!" The boy blinked. He blinked away the dead skin suffocating his face, and replaced it with a fresh new ordinary Damian. It was painful to suddenly push back all of his foaming emotions and replace it with plastic. It was tiring, but what choice did he have?

Damian spun around and let his hands fall to his side.

"What?" He huffed, letting out the last bit of filthy mental residue. Tim did somewhat of a jog to catch up to the boy. Don't worry, there weren't any cars coming or anything. Tim made sure he was being safe.

"What was that?" Tim questioned.

"I did not enjoy that song. It was too depressing and not very fun to listen to. " Damian answered strongly.

"That wasn't the point of the song, its supposed to educate you." Tim argued.

"You want me to be sympathetic and sappy? Not really in the mood to pity these weak people your song is referring to." Damian batted and turned to enter the mall.

"You really are heartless." Tim muttered as he followed the younger male into the building. The two had walked into a department store, but Damian didn't stop to look at the clothing on display.

"It shouldn't be seen as negative to not want to listen to music that makes you want to kill yourself!" Damian spat. To people on the outside, Damian sounded like an inconsiderate brat that did not care about how others feel. But he was aching deep inside, for he too wanted to erase himself from space and time. His life was no longer something he had control of, his successes were blurry memories buried deep within him. He had to act normal for all of the people around him. To lessen the burden of his very existence on his loved ones. They did not deserve his presence in their lives. There was no love to bond with in his life, just the cold empty shell he curled into. But he was resilient to give up his trial at maintaining his secret. No one should know, no one will know. So it was okay if people saw him as an impudent child with no home training. Because that's what he was.

" I get that it's sad Damian. But it's supposed to get people like _you_  to open their eyes and see they're not the only ones in this world. There are people out here hurting, emotional hurting. It's not just physical fighting, you can't get rid of it with a punch."

"Yes, Drake. I'm verse in human the psyche." Damian reminded the older boy of his status, to make his dominance apparent.

"You don't act like it. All you seem to care about is yourself." Tim bitterly retorted.

Damian ignored his words and stopped.

"Where are we going?"

"I was following you." Tim groaned.

"I'm not the one who wanted to come here, so where is it you're trying to take me?" Damian looked up at his adopted brother. Tim responded with his body as he began to walk. Damian jammed his hands in his pockets and drifted along with the older boy.

  
~~~

 

"Seriously? Bath and Body Works?"

Damian made a face as Tim handed him a cylinder container. Damian took the bottle and fumbled with it in his hand. The content displayed some type of ocean aroma. The boy rolled his eyes and glanced up at Tim who was rummaging through the corner of shelves they huddled into.

"They have manly smells too." Tim protected his decision to walk into the store people would consider feminine.

"You could have picked a better place to get your cologne from." Damian closed his eyes for a brief moment. He could see every inch of darkness swallowed up by his eyelids.

" I could have, but this is where you get all the smell good lotions. Two birds with one stone." Tim handed another container down to Damian who still willingly took them.

"I want to leave." Damian uttered.

"Calm down, we just got here. Why don't you go look around and find something you like?" Tim blew Damian off as he continued to examine the array of colorful fragrances. Damian grumbled and wandered away from Tim.

Damian glanced around the store searching for something eye catching. His search had taken him to a shelf with an assortment of organic body butters. He went to grab one of the samples when he realized Tim's picks were still resting in his hands. Damian placed the two containers down and went back to work. It was some type of honey flavored Shea butter. Shea butter is good for your skin right? It can help clear up some of those ugly cuts sprinkled on his body. He probably already had lotions at home full of the same ingredients but while they were out he might as well grab something. He unscrewed the lid of the container and was hit with a burst of a sweet and sticky aroma. He was expecting a powerful nutty smell to climb in his nose, but no such thing happened. Damian placed his index finger into the container, scooping up a smattering of the room temperature cream. The moisturizing agent was placed against the back of his hand and rubbed in. The more Damian watched himself work the butter into the skin, the more he felt this sinking feeling dragging down in his stomach. His skin was drained of its pigment. He felt hideous inside.

_' this is all hopeless. You're so ugly Damian, what do you think you're doing out here in public. Go home. I don't want to be here. Pointless acts of pity.'_

A fusion of thoughts overcame him. They weren't organized by any means, yet it all trickled down his body the same. Damian put the top back onto the jar and rotated to close it.

"Are you done?" Damian placed the sample container down and spun his head in the direction of the beck. Tim stood there holding a small bag with his collection of scents.

"Yes."

"Do you like anything?"

Damian reached towards the shelf and handed Tim the butter he was looking at. The stripling took the small jar and opened it. He took a whiff and frowned.

"You like this?"

"Yeah, what's it to you?" Damian sounds offended.

"It smells like a French whore would put this on. You want to smell sweet like this?? " Tim was puzzled. Damian didn't look like a gumdrop and lollipop person for lotions.

"I just like the smell." Damian grumbled and Tim grinned. "Take your belongings." Damian said and handed Tim his left behind things. Tim takes the bottles and they head up to the check out. Tim hands the man out the counter his items and they have the normal customer to worker chat.

"Damian, give me your thing." Tim turns to the younger boy.

"Why?"

"Because I'm trying to pay for our stuff." Tim responds.

"I have my own money." Damian objected.

"Yeah but I'm trying to be nice since I brought you out here." Tim persuaded as the man finished ringing up his stuff.

" could you come on? You're holding up the line."

_'Hurry up. Just give it to him. Quit being an imbecile. Stop being so slow. Give it to him.'_

Damian gives the jar to his brother without a struggle. He takes it and hands it to the cashier.

_'You live in your head too much, stop it.'_

  
Tim finishes up with their things and the two make their way out of the small store. The scented bottles jiggled against the paper bag. Tim holds the receipt up as they walked in the crowd of faceless people. Damian glanced over at the strip of paper as he walked alongside Tim.

"You spent eighty two dollars on lotions." Damian said disappointedly.

"Yeah I know it was a bit pricey, but it was worth it."

"So you say." Damian folds his arms as they strolled by the countless stores.

  
~~~

  
Damian looked down at the stack of shirts in his arms. He didn't want them, they wouldn't fit right. His arms would be out and open for everyone to see how ugly he was. The sight of the shirts alone was stressing him out, and Tim was obviously waiting for him to try them on.

"I don't want these," Damian grumbled.

Tim swatted Damian's complaint away, "can you at least try them on? Alfred was going to take you shopping anyway."

The boy's palms grew sweaty as he contemplated his answer.

_'Protect yourself. If you keep fighting him he's going to suspect something. Do what he says. I don't want to do this. He's going to find out. Stop being so stubborn. Try them on. What if he wants to see me in the clothing?_

_Stop thinking.'_

" I don't want these clothes! You're not my father, Drake! " Damian growled more aggressively than intended. It caused Tim's face to churn into a confused and disgusted expression.

"It was a question." Tim breathed and looked away from the smaller male. It was apparent he was restraining himself from expelling his thoughts. He then turned from the boy and started to shop for himself.

_'He stopped_

_Why'd he stop?_

_Look at what you did. You should have just done what was instructed. This is what everyone is talking about. This is why your father doesn't want you by his side as robin._

_You don't listen._

_You're so hardheaded'_

"I'll try them on." Damian spoke quietly but luckily enough, Tim had heard him. He didn't give a response, but gave his attention to the son of the Bat. Damian studied his expression. His countenance was one of disappointment and dismiss, no longer the mellow fellow he was just standing by.

Strike two.

Damian gulped and turned away, his face was eating him up inside. His feet dragged towards one of the changing rooms. A woman stood by the stall and he handed her his bundle of shirts. She gave him a card labeled with the number three and pointed towards the back. Damian followed the woman's instructions and made his way to a vacant booth. As soon as he locked the door behind him, he hung the clothes on a peg and slid to the floor.

He didn't feel good. His stomach was in mingled up knots and a fluttering feeling throbbed between his chest and his gut. The air around him was thinning when he gasped for oxygen. His eyelids clenched tightly as he took another shaky breath.

' _What a loser_

_Stupid_

_Stupid_

_Stupid_

_Stupid_

_Why are you always like this_

_All you do is screw everything up_

_Disgrace_

_Just get it over with'_

He sat for a moment before pulling himself off the floor; the dust and dirt was brushed onto his pants. A sigh escaped his mouth as he eyed the shirts hanging against the wall. The hoodie was stripped from his body and the mirror was brisk to start howling and laughing. Damian tried his best to avoid eye contact with himself and unhooked a shirt. The fabric hung loosely in his hands before he pulled it over his head. It was actually a decent shirt, but it had that striking problem. Damian finally decided he was not going to try on all of these clothes. It wasn't worth his time to buy shirts he would probably never wear. Just say he tried them on and Tim should be okay with that right? Whatever the outcome, it won't matter because the boy was growing sick of the inclosed space. So he quickly removes the shirt and redresses in his hoodie. Safety and security flushes over him.

He exits the room and hangs the clothes on a rack and sheepishly walks over to Tim. The older male is still silent and he turns to leave the store. It doesn't feel right though. Before they were walking together; now, it was as if Damian was chasing after Tim.

  
~~~

  
"Can I get two vanilla ice creams. Um... both with rainbow sprinkles and whipped cream." Tim asked politely to the cashier who nods and goes to fulfill the order. Damian is in a timorous stance as he noiselessly waits. The tiny frame of the boy is drifting away slowly isolating himself from his surroundings. The bustling people around them, the white plastic chairs pushed up to the basic metal tables, the gushing of the mall fountain, the sizzling of fried food, they all start to fade away into the darkness. It's just Damian and his thoughts again.

_'This day is miserable. I think he's ordering that for me. Be grateful he hasn't left you here. I know my way home. I don't want to eat that. You don't deserve to eat. I need to eat. He's going to find out. You're such an idiot. How have you gotten this far? Hurry up Tim. Don't rush him. We've been here for hours. I want to go home. Where's my father? I believe it's nighttime now. Another day without patrol. Shut up. Ugh you're so pathetic._

_Look_

_He's coming_

_Stop looking so mopey'_

Damian blinked when Tim passed him with the two cups of frozen diary. But he had grown accustomed to wandering behind Tim for the day. The older bird found a clean table and sat down. Damian followed his example.

"Here." Tim handed him the second cup and a spoon and unwillingly, Damian took it. He swore there were eyes it that cup because it was staring him down. His vision lingered on the slowly melting cream. The plastic spoon penetrates the ice cream, it's curves stubbornly pick at the frozen desert.

"I want to leave." Damian hastily blurts.

Tim gazes up from his bowl and swallows a spoonful of the sweet. "Give my the courtesy of five minutes." He unemotionally responds

"I want to leave now." Damian urges.

"I didn't ask to come out here! I wanna go home."

"Damian!" Tim yelled and cursed under his breath. "Just finish your ice cream and then we can leave. Okay?"

Damian glanced down at the bowl and glanced back up, " I don't want to eat that."

" why?"

"Why?!"

" Because you dragged me out here—oh look at me, I'm Tim and I such a kind soul for forcefully babysitting a kid.—I don't even think you like me!" Damian bellowed.

"You're right! I don't like you." Tim snapped.

"The only reason I brought you here, the only reason we're even here is because of Dick! I didn't want to come here with you because I knew this was how you were going to act!" Tim tried to keep his voice down. But Damian was as loud as ever. People were starting to stare. They always did. Damian could hear some of the people whispering and gossiping. It was just like school.

_...Is that Bruce Wayne's Kid...?_

_...Bruce Wayne...?_

_...One of his wards right...?_

The ringing rattled his brain but he was too heated to stop the altercation.

  
"I don't need your pity Drake! No one forced you to do this!" Damian barked.

"I think he puts too much time into you, but Dick is worried about you! Damian, you look like shit!—have you looked in a mirror recently??? Look at yourself! Look at your skin! What are you doing???"

"I'm not dumb Damian!—like what is it??—what, is it because he took _it_  away. You wanna act out now, you wanna go on your little hunger strikes and stuff??!"

"Yes!"

_'You're a liar'_

"He's being so unreasonable! I deserve to be out there-"

"No! No you don't! You have to earn _it_ the same way all of _us_  did! You don't deserve to have _it_ if you think whining and pouting is going to make him just give _it_  back!"

"I AM NOT WHINING! He's been ignoring me and I want to go back to how things were!! It was better when I was out there too!!" Damian's voice cracked.

" So you've just been acting weird to get his attention??" Tim questioned angrily.

"Yes—"

 _'IdiotIdiotIdiotIdiotIdiotIdiotIdiotIdiotIdiot_ '

"AHHHHH! Of course I want his attention! He's my father!!! ITS NOT FAIR!" The right words were so hard to come by. They usually flowed so easily off the tongue.

" ITS NOT FAIR!!!" Damian shouted to the heavens causing heads from every direction to turn. Without hesitation, he picked up the sweet treat from the table and pegged it at one of the mall pillars. The explosion of vanilla and sprinkles was rage filled and frightened a good amount of people. He didn't pause to process anything and jets towards the trafficking flow of people.

"DAMIAN!" Tim cried and burst from his seat. The boy was sprinting, and sprinting fast. He let out an irritated yell and began to run after him, his efforts to keep his sights on Damian were futile. The boy had managed to merge in with the crowd of people greatly confused by what was going on. Tim huffed and tried his best to scan the influx of people for his brother.

No luck.


	9. The Demon Child

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Glitch in the system

 

  
Tim's eyes scanned rapidly from one subject to another.

Damian.

He had to find Damian.

He blew a gust of air lifting a small portion of his hair. His hands moved to his obliques as he pondered in frustration. The bags they collected from their shopping lay against his side awaiting his next action. Why did Damian have to leave like that? It was _stupid_! The kid clearly overreacted in a boisterous manner because he had drawn all that negative back lash on himself. Tim wasn't the one that told him to start screaming in the mall, he also wasn't the one that made him chuck his ice cream. Damian did that too himself.

Well...

Maybe he was being a little harsh. The little twerp seemed pretty heated over the red bird pressing him. But they had always did that, they always fight and argue. It was apart of their dynamic relationship. He shoots and Tim shoots back, plain and simple; but now Damian was getting overly emotional when it came to their petty arguments. Maybe he was being a bit more rash than usual... no, the former robin didn't feel he was being overzealous with the dispute.. Maybe Damian was the one that had just grown soft?

It was hard for Tim to see Damian as a sensitive person. The kid was a wolf in sheep's clothing, not to be trusted or left alone with anything. Take your eyes off him and the next thing you'll see is a body bag, and it almost ended up being him the first time they met... But the momentum of their relationship just wasn't sitting right recently. It didn't fit like it usually did, like there was a crease that he keep rolling over. It wasn't smooth.  
  
There were a lot of tiny red flags popping up when he spotted Damian around the manor, which was beginning to be very rare. He just seemed... he didn't know...like out of it. Overpowered and conquered by something...

He thought for a moment.

He noted that Damian had grown increasingly ravaged when Bruce stripped him of the robin mantle. And... being robin was like his prized possession, it was a trophy that he cherished. A spot in Bruce's life that they kind of both fought for. So.. seeing it taken away was popping his gassed ego. And it's been how long since he touched his suit? Like... at least two weeks? Honestly, he was surprised Damian had persevered himself this long. The boy was due some respect, because Tim gave him three days tops before he finally lashed out like this.

 _Damn_.

Now he was feeling guilt ridden... But to his defense, he was in the heat of the moment. People don't stop and think in a war zone, they fire back. However, Tim had become overwhelmed by his own emotions which didn't sit well with his conscious. It was stupid that he let his emotions cloud his judgement. After all, he was older than Damian and knew better. Not to mention the fact that his discipleship under Bruce had sharpen his logic and reasoning tenfolds; so he should have pondered before serving such jealousy on a silver platter. But it couldn't be helped now, the dispute was over and done with, and he was left with a missing kid to chase down.

One of the hands resting on his slide slid into his pocket to retrieve his phone. When the small device was taken out, the bags rested between his elbow. Tim scurried towards a nearby exit and out of the cluster of people. They were loud and noisy and just too nosey for him to get his thoughts into words. He found a corridor that lead to the parking lot. His steps carried an ounce of worry as he traveled the opposite direction of a hand full of strangers. Tim pushed his free hand against the door as his other hand pressed his phone against his ear.

The cool night air brushed against his face as he strayed away from the mall entrance. His face was tattered with small hints of stress and irritation. A dial tone buzzed in his ear as he impatiently waited for a response from the other end of the phone. The tone jingled in his ear again causing him to let out a vexed breath. The redundant noise finally stopped.

"Hello?" A voice answered patched up with static.

"Dick—" Tim spoke with spliced urgency.

"Wait give me a second..." He heard a mumbling from the other end and waited. The line finally spoke again, " Okay, Tim, what's up?" The background noise had cleared up.

"Dick, where are you?" Tim questioned.

"I was exiting the cave, where's your communicator? Not much cellular reception down here... he probably has to get this fixed now..." Dick answered still not aware of the situation the younger boy was juggling.

"I left it at the manor, I left everything there," Tim groaned.

"What's the problem, you seem a little aggravated."

"We have a situation." Tim continued.

"Did you and Damian go out today? Did he give you any trouble??" Dick voice was possessed with a crescendo of dread. His increasing cautiousness had been tugging at his mind for a while.

"Yeah, we did. I —we went to the mall and Damian ran off! He's gone Dick, I can't find him. He just disappeared." Tim rambled into the speaker.

"Okay, okay... where are you right now?" Tim was trying to sway with Dick's authoritarian soothing. Dick was in a bit of a panic himself, but his voice helped calm them both down.

"I'm still at the mall, but I don't think Damian is here."

"Alright, it's okay.. this isn't your fault." Tim felt like his brother was being a bit too nice because this was his fault. He let Damian run off.

"This kinda is my fault." Tim half heartedly admitted.

"Hey, hey... it's okay, we'll sort this all out later. You did a lot today."

"Where's Bruce?" Tim huffed into the phone.

"He's here, don't worry. We'll get this under control. It's getting late, just focus on getting back home.."

"Yeah..yeah, okay." Tim sighed. He didn't want to go home, he knew he could help find Damian. He just wasn't prepared at the moment, without having his stuff and all... But, considering how the day went he concluded it was time to pass the baton to someone else. So, he didn't protest.

"I'm gonna get Bruce and we're gonna look for him.. stay safe coming home."

"..right.." Tim relented his former annoyance and replaced it with worry. His mind was fuzzy as he scoured the crevices of his memory. His mental hands began to grab bits and pieces of the rampant past, trying to avoid the distractions of loose negative emotions.

Damian has been Damian...

He isn't a very nice kid...But... Suddenly Bruce strips robin away and he starts acting funny... Damian does weird things, it's subtle but it isn't impossible to see a small blemish of gray in a pitch black sea. Although he spends some of his time with the Titans, the hours he purchases at the manor are ghostly. The younger boy spends more time in his room,isolating himself from everyone. Doesn't he have friends he can hang around? Well... he's a lone wolf, so it's unlikely for him to fellowship with uninteresting children his own age. Now that the third bird thought about it, there wasn't much to do around the manor besides play Batman and Robin. Of course Damian could figure out a method to attach himself to sedentary trinkets and hobbies, but he's not that type of person... Or maybe he does preform his personal interests in his room. But, Damian doesn't eat with them as much as he used to. But it could possibly be the stress of withholding his sidekick position. Tim remembered when he had done something similar when refraining from his Grandfather's twisted teachings. He barely got sleep and was disastrous at coping in a healthy pattern. Did Damian really love being Robin to this degree? Maybe he did.... because as far as Tim's knowledge, he had suddenly stopped acting out when the plug was pulled.

Bruce.

He's really trying to get into the favor of his father's tribunal decision. Damian... was trying hard, he truly was. Tim had never unraveled such a discovery as this. The boy with the Demon soul determined to be an obedient son of the Bat. The teen wanted to see the boy again, he wanted to apologize for the hurtful remarks he made. Damian was just a kid trying to earn the affection of his parent, a process Tim was familiar with and a process he was certain Damian was reliving.

Or

Tim could be entirely wrong with his hypothesis, and could be creeping into the wrong rabbit hole. Even still, the boy believed his guardian had to talk with his son to solve for whatever this unknown variable was. Everything was still fresh and his confusion was beginning to best him. He was wasn't sure what to think or believe in that moment. Maybe Dick was right, it had been a long day, and a drive back to the manor could fix some of it.

  
~~~

  
The night air was hushed surrounding the boy's frame. Gotham was coming to life at this time. The sun had said it's goodbyes and welcomed the moon to witness the filth that crept into the streets. The vagabond dragged his feet against the decrepit concrete sidewalk. His hoodie lay atop his head, masking the hunger for blood. The pain inside his chest lingered beneath the black sweatshirt protecting his scarred body. Both pupils floated atop a raging sea of white as the blue circles shook. But, the dole appearance of hiseyes displayed an unwavering emptiness. The core was an open door for whatever demons that lurked so very long in his body. His lips were thin emphasizing his emotionless expression. He did not look sad, he did not look happy, he did not look angry.. he just looked empty and unmoving, but his aura was dark, and threatening. His insides were so loud however, and shrieked at him, monsters whispered disturbing things to him. This feeling of acrimony towards himself. He had a wasp nest in his skull and the buzzing wouldn't cease.

_**Idiot. What have you done? Look at how vacuous you are. What are you doing? Failure. No. Is not an option. Stop. You're a fool. Go home. No I'm fully capable of this one my own. Why are you out here. Where is Tim...? I abandoned him . I wanna go home. Then what are you doing? Shut up. You knew better, why have you done this? I don't know what's wrong with me.** _

Damian had wandered a far distance away from the original destination Tim had taken him to. His automatic limbs had carried him to the slums of Gotham. A breeding ground for criminals and violence. Children most definitely should not be where his feet had stumbled.

_**You're a liar! You filthy snake. Ugh, everyone is right. They have all been right about you from the beginning. All of those children are right. No, they are wrong. Look at how pathetic you are. Your father doesn't love you. I already know that. Leave me alone. You're a disgrace to everything you stand for. Tim is a—UGHHHH... well Tim is right you stupid ignorant child. Tim is your father's child, his real son. You're just a biological accident. I hate you.** _

The ill mannered boy sustained his locomotion letting his head bob slightly from one side to the other. A shadow lingered behind his footing, stretching across the walk way. His father's legacy, the batman watching him?

_**Why is my father's favorite child not his own? Why is it not me?? I've done so much. Because you're selfish, I can't believe you would possibly think that man would treat you as an equal to them. But...I'm his son. A son he never wanted or needed. To him you never existed. You were never supposed to be born. The life you possess is false. Then why am I here? I don't know..I don't understand...** _

No.

_**I have not seen Dick in a while.. I must have frightened him after that night.. You certainly did. No, that's preposterous. I could not have scared him off, that's a stupid proposal. Regardless, none of the robins want you around. You are an undeserving brat constantly trying to strip away what was rightfully theirs. No... I desire the robin mantle as well. I fought for that position with honor. No, you dismantled an already stable running operation. You're a slimy pest.** _

The dark figure leaking off his body was the scorn of a woman. The tips of her long locks creeped upon the nearby buildings, and her possessive raging energy filled the boy.

**_You should die. You need to die. I hate you. I hate you so much. You're nothing. No... no. I can make things right. No you can't , you ran away. You've already caused a monstrous amount of problems. You're weak, you're worthless. You're nothing but trash, disposable and broken. Shut up. Are you this foolish Damian? You really believe you can change anything? I don't have a family. Precisely, I don't. I do not understand why my life is a constant lie. Where have I gone off to? I feel tricked, betrayed. Yes, you should. You deserve these feelings harboring inside of you._ **

The shadow began to massage his body, and she wrapped her transparent form around his, caressing his arms soothingly. His ugly arms. A heave jumped from his teeth and his fingers twitched unnaturally.

_**Stop talking to me. Damian, you're a burden to everyone. There is a plethora of buildings around, it would be easy to jump off. I.. do not wish to do that. Because you're a pitiful coward. Do it, end it all. Take yourself out of this miserable pit of despair and spare the ones you cherish the hassle of your existence. No... I don't want to do that. I want to go home. You don't have a home, you have been without a home since you abandoned the league. Father. Your father doesn't want you. He hates you. Shut up.** _

The wayfaring boy stopped in between a break way of old brick buildings. An alley stretched besides him and the chattering of men echoed from the entrance. Damian's eyes did not leave the ground as he loitered under the dim lit street lamp. Little insects fluttered above him, tinkering with the towering light. The angle of the luminary made his face disappear, leaving only his straight lips. The sable bled into his pale skin.

_**Take your life. That's very rash. It would not matter, you would be dead. There will be no Lazarus pit for you. What if father needs me...? He doesn't need you, no one needs you. You hear it everyday, you're a worthless, halfwitted child that will be better off splattered on the pavement. Shut up. Don't say that. Damian, Damian al Ghul—Wayne. Stop. You don't belong to either family, you do not deserve to use those surnames. You dirty child. Are you hearing yourself?? Get a grip! What is there to hold, it's the truth. All I do is ruin everything.** _

Two men straddled within the confines of the alley staring the boy down. Their crooked smug looks pridefully displayed superior orientation. It is to note that these men possessed no identification to blossom them into interesting figures for the reader, they only have the status of a no faced statistic. Dolls in a crane game that just happened to but dug up from a pile of identical goons. It's only a right place at the right time occasion.

"Who's the kid?" One of men let out a raspy voice from the alley. He fumbles with a sharp object that ever so slightly twinkles from the street lamp.

His partner leans towards him and replies, with his pants badly stuffed with something in an attempt to hide it, " Dunno but he shouldn't be out here," the man snickered.

If Damian was a regular child he would have dug himself into a deep hole. The men were clearly doing something improper and most likely illegal. Drugs? Weapons? Super villain lackey work? Or just plain old trouble? All probable causes were irrelevant to the boy making the importance of the men shrivel up. He was lost within himself and although noticed them, paid no mind.

The men continue to taunt and one ventures bravely closer twirling the knife in his hand.

"Aye kid, You best get goin, you might not see your momma for while if you don't." The man evilly states and he points the weapon at the boy with the intent to harm him. 

Damian's mouth twitches.

_**I don't  want them to see me like this. Weak, object. I do not wish to be thrown away. It's well earned, you need to disappear. There is nothing left for you. I do not think you have completely grasped the concept that I hate you. Everyone hates you. No one wants you alive. No one wants you to take in the air around you. They all want you gone, to tear you out of their lives. Why do I hate myself so much? BECAUSE YOU NEED TO! This has all happened because of you, you have brought this all upon yourself. I wish Talia miscalculated in the lab with you. She was a little late, but nonetheless intelligent enough to comprehend that you are not worth anyone's time. It was a good run, she tried to make an obedient child but you can't do anything correctly, so look where that got you. And your father, don't let me waste my time explaining it. I don't wish to talk about this. But I assume your skull is too thick to use common sense. I applaud the generous facade he takes when handling you. Not many words, he keeps things simple. He doesn't ask you of much, and yet you still can't function to complete simple tasks. Pathetic. Truly. I'm not pathetic... I'm just learning. Pitiful excuses. Do you ever even get affection from him? You're always whining about how much he doesn't interact with you as much as you want him too. You're so very annoying. And not to mention selfish, this man doesn't owe you anything and you still want him to cuttle you. See, those kids at your little school are only opening your eyes. They have not harmed you, you do that to yourself. Your ignorance has blinded you for too long, I'm gracious they have caught you up to speed. Die. Just die, you need to die. I hate you Damian, I hate you so much. I have never felt this type of hatred towards another human being. Disgusting worthless waste of space. Go away, kill yourself. Go die.** _

 

  
Shut up

 

 

_Shut UP_

 

 

**SHUT UP!**

  
The chains crackled and suddenly snapped. That metal cage holding everything together was now trailing towards the deep abyss. Millions of victory cries chanted from the metal incasement as it shattered. Every single creature that scoured his mental lavished itself in new found freedom from their timely incarceration. Demons filled his sockets turning his cold eyes into a crystal white. The insanity and his unfeeling pain engulfed every inch of his body filling it with the flames of hell.

"What's up what him?"

The men didn't have much time to react as the child viciously charged in their direction. They did their best to defend themselves, one stepping to the side and the other lifting his knife with poor form. The man tried to swing at the rushing boy with the thin metal and ultimately ends up missing and getting a swift jab puncturing his stomach; It rupture a sharp cry from the man.The hand held weapon flew out of the man's hands in a slow graceful fall. His accomplish was too slow to react which allowed Damian to maneuver the flying knife into his hands. He was moving astonishingly fast as if he had ingested some of the speedforce itself.  
  
Damian's nails dug into the man's wrist without hesitation getting an aching squeal from the first man. His knuckles whitened as his grip strengthen on the jagged dagger.

Everything was warming up, his body felt like it was heating to an inferno. His respiratory was blazing and the smoke trailed out of nose and mouth. This indigenous savory goodness foaming at his pink lips, the switching in his veins, the sweet cherry colors in his eyes made him feel...alive.

"AHH! WHAT THE FUCK—GET HIM OFF ME!" The man yelled

For the first time he could feel, he could feel everything. That insatiable feeling of icy cold numbness melted away, and was replaced with his infatuated immediate need for blood. The scratching under his skin crawling out of his mind. Life had meaning. Affinity for this world suddenly sparked. His heart reminded him of this, from its excessive beating of excitement. This moment in time made him buck up in a twisted and maniacal manner. Damian's face was leaking pure black static.

The man in his grasp quickly slung his free limb to get the beast off him, but unhesitatingly, it responded with a sharp biting grab. It sunk the teeth like knife into his other arm, slowing eating it the flesh harboring within his limb. The man cried again causing his partner to hastily react.

"Oh my god— what-!" The man hoisted a gun unprepared for any of this. Beads of sweat erupted from his skin in panic and prickled his face. That thing was going to kill him if he didn't kill it first. The murder in it's eyes sliced into his soul.

The man's finger squeezes brutally on the metal tip with little consideration or thought put into it. He was afraid, fearing for his life. A demon was going to devour his flesh, kiss his cold corpse, and take a nap after everything was said and done.

 _It was moving so fast._ Before the shells collided with the ground, it was moving with supernatural speed. The other man's body was slung like a rag doll into the range of the flying bullets.

Too fast..

Nothing was slow enough to comprehend...

  
Smoke fluttered out of the barrel as the man's fingers continued to press against the trigger. It only responded with a clicking sound causing him to yelp. His eyes flashed from the gun to his partner, his companions body had collected all of his rounds. Sweaty ambivalence washes over the man as he shutters, his teeth grinding into each other.

The unresponsive carcass was propelled across the map leaving two red glowing eyes under the subtle amount of cloth protecting the creature's head. Petrified, the man was consumed by it's gaze, for he could not command his feet to move. His arms slowly levitated in surrender and the hand gun chattered against the colorful ground.

"P-please..." his voice was sprinkle in remorse and fear as the animal studied it's prey but ever so gently swayed its hands to its side. The glowing balls still smoked out of the dark hood.

"I-I don't mean no trouble..." he quivered.

The tiny devil span stared curiously for a moment before it muttered something in a low solid monotone.

_**"I find you tiresome."** _

The soulless words were the last source of sound that fell upon the man's ears before the thin rigid blade pierce his forehead, separating the skin bathed in blood which was fortified by the layers of unprepared bone. A small gush of fluid covered the handle as the man's body went off line and slumped to the ground. The boy stood and watched, his eyes calmly stretched out towards the man, his fingers loose and swift. His gaze fell upon his hands, his delicate potter's prize blanketed by the rosy water surrounding him. For such a long time without a real target, the throw was a good one. Yet, he felt unsatisfactory with this catch. The hunt was not the exuberant experience his stomach growled for. The excitement was short lived and disgruntled him.

  
Damian's eyes lingered on the spotting of scarlet decorating the old bricks and cement. He observed the puddles slowly swelling from the battered bodies. The black hoodie was now stained with his adversaries insides. The boy had thoroughly showered in the thick fluids and yet was still outwardly unfeeling. His face was soaked like a nearly finished canvas, and lashes hovering above his numb pupils batted with the strings of blood laced in the tiny hairs.

This was his doing, his extremely violent behavior that drawn the display in front of him. The blue wheels in his skull start to dilate as the creatures parade into the night sky.

Dry heaving begins to rattle his esophagus as his body try to disperse any content in his empty stomach. The sight stuck in his mind as his eyes traced the lying bodies in the shallow puddles of red insides. It caused him to continuous gag, yet the only content to burst from his mouth was tinted pink saliva from his blood stained teeth and unused air. His eyes prickled up with ocean water cruising towards the shore, his breathing began to run as it produced an irregular pattern, the lunges within him were shaky and hesitant to gulp a wholesome breath. His body was melting before his very eyes.

A pair of hands sporadically clench the hood sheltering the adolescent's head. The streaks of scarlet that tapered up his fingers were not slow to seep into the cloth for the liquid was still moist. His heart was burning up morphing his bosom into a roasting furnace.

' _What have you done...?'_

  
The bottom row of his teeth dug into the top as he analyzed the macabre painting wallowing in front of him. Damian was of course no stranger to a corpse, whether it be someone previously disposed or handy work he had done by himself. A life stripped away by his own hands was futile to waver his moral compass and no compassion struck his heart. His past carried a lot of baggage, some in which was packed, was the bodies of his fallen enemies. They dragged sluggishly behind him, haunting every motion he preformed. Although, the boy was a murderer and more, he no longer wished to partake in such disturbing rituals and tasks. His strong morals would often sway him to contemplate ending a life to save another, but cessation for meaningless blood shed was a habit change he direly yearned. He was not a beast, nor a wild animal that tore apart whatever living creature it laid eyes on. He was a child, a child that wanted to do the just work of his family and serve justice with a proper manner. The legal system was in charge of the rest, once the target was apprehended. He was not the judge, jury, and executioner. Yet even with these beliefs he strived to cherish in every bone in his body, he was still standing above lifeless bodies in disquietude. Unaccounted for victims.

No...

No..

This is not real, Damian, he did no such deed. The boy was not the perpetrator of a murder, not at this time in his career. He did not do this, he was covered in human liquids because the skies had opened up and hells wrath showered the people of Gotham with demon blood. One man was hole punched with bullet holes... well, Damian did not do that. He was not to person who hastily pulled the trigger. But this did not explain the knife inserted in the other's head like piercing icing covered cake. But he was the one shooting at him as well...

None of this happen, and if it was no illusionary, It was all self defense... he was sure of it.

His father... what would his father say? The man would turn in disgust if his eyes allowed him to look upon the dirty child. His son was a malfunction in the factory, a repugnance that constantly slandered the Batman name and what it stood for. This was not justice, this was the wickedness of a poisonous apple seed sprouting out of a child that is involuntarily his own flesh and blood. A wild canine hiding in the body of a pure bundle of lilies called a child. A beautiful fruit, clean and polished, but rotting on the inside. The expanding distance between the two continued to mature the more he let those ill mannered spirits come out and play. The rift widens and the connection they have through family will crumble in his palms the more he crushed it. Damian was a burden to his father and never ceased to crawl into trouble, the very actions he executed that chilling night proves the consistency of his problematic behaviors. He was a disease, a tumor the man carried around with him slowly weakening his willed sturdy frame. Tumors need to be cut out and removed.

The noise. The spinning and bouncing vibrations must have gathered the attention of some unwanted bystander curiously wandering around the corner. This neighborhood was very hazardous causing the last assumption to be unlikely. A more probable reaction would be fleeing from the sight of the firing sound, but someone must notified an authority figure of sorts. It was difficult to see himself slithering out of the wrath of his father, and the wrath of the law. Damian although regretting what he had done, punished himself quietly for doing such a poor job with the execution. He was smothered in the guts of strangers wiping his scent over everything. Had his performance gotten rusty, or was it the absolute insanity finally resonating within him. Perhaps it was a fusion of both, the two dancing madly together. Hopefully Batman could work his magic with the GCPD. It was a poor bargain, but it was the only choice he had. To leave the decision up to his scornful father.

His head grew weary as he tried to configure what actions he would take. Everything was blurry, his vision, his thought, his logic, his emotions... nothing was left untouched. His toes dragged towards the brick wall and he slowly slouched down towards the filthy gravel, dirt, and shards of broken glass bottles.


	10. Moonlit Compunction

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Continuation of last chapter
> 
>  
> 
>  
> 
> Falling

He didn't expect to be swept away by him. His flexible toned arms wrapped in black and blue spandex strongly upholding the boy's inferior legs, and pinning them against his waist, to secure him from falling. The boy buried his red painted modest sunken cheeks into the other's neck, bobbing up and down faintly from the impact of the rocky rooftops. Damian's eyes nearly nestled in his wet arms that slung around the shoulders of the fast bird, keeping him above ground. His poor fingers pressed lightly against the man's chest and his toes pointed limply towards the ground. The bricolage of red streaking into neon blue basking in the moonlight radiated a mixture of purple.

Dick didn't speak and the boy was not expecting him to say anything. Youthful footing pranced with high springs, bursting from his calfs. It was a striking sight indeed, to see such a young boy bathed in such sharp colors. The predecessor was unprepared to let his eyes wander on this piece of art work. Two bodies that had fallen, their bodies used as tubes. A knife and gun as the brushes to engender strokes across the basic brick walls. The most heart sinking display was the presentation the young boy shared. His countenance of utter defeat as if he had been sparing with an unmentionable spirit. The victor was unknown but the defeat was rancorous.

Damian should have ran.

He would have ran, if his muscles twitched in the right way. The ligaments and joints would not allow his body to leave to the far distant off location he wished to dwell in. This mandatory feeling to run away, from his thoughts, from his physical enemies, and from the temptation death laid out for him. Everything was becoming entirely too much for the boy to handle. But instead, he paced in a trembling motion, his mind lurking on what was to become of him.

Time galloped past him in a gleeful manor, and sooner than later he was scooped up by the brooding acrobat's arms.

The resolution of the situation was pixelated, disenfranchising the boy from piecing together the little crumbs of details he so soullessly neglected. There was no resistance to sustain and clear his conscious mind, only cries for soothing leisure. The insides of his skull darkened, as his lids shut, and the cluster of negative thoughts dropped their weapons to take a small break as well. Damian only allowed the strokes of the wild moonlight and the body heat of the other male to consume his thoughts. The compunction in his head sizzled quietly, panning off into the distance.

~~~

The man exchanges a baleful look with the colorful child dropped at his doorstep. It was a mixture of crushing prophesied ominous eyes and a scornful disparage. Nevertheless however, his cold scathing eyes were cupped by droopy bags. The man was tired and it was apparent for all to see. Juggling the duties of playing dress up and saving the world, along with an ill mannered mischievous child was taking a tole on him. Whether it was a increasingly consistent three hours of sleep, or the grime of the streets going bump in the night, he was vividly on edge.

Why waste such precious time that would otherwise be spent recollecting sleep or solving a global crisis, on a repulsing creature he was to call his son? Surely the confidence of his colleagues could provide an answer, but this particular case was doomed in being solved.

Although a ravaged demon of the night, the boy was breath taking and fascinating. His unpredictable manner, especially having been displayed tonight, left the father perplexed. Where did all of this come from?

It was sudden and miscalculated, alluding to the disturbing build up the reader has been exposed to. Detective work was keen to his developed nature, and would have usually caused his mind to spin. Yet, whatever had caused this frivolous approach to Damian's internal agony was a diminutive percentile. A once in a life time occurrence of unraveling the barrier pinned between the boy and the outside world was a missed opportunity. Perhaps, everyone's logical senses were covered up by their overly heightened emotional connections of shock and frustration.

  
That's it, keep gorging them in what they want to hear. Hide your guilt and shame, replace it with jealousy and rage. Let the peppery flame roll off the tip of your tongue, let it sweetly settle in their ears. Do a proper slight of hand, show them the obvious and maintain their attention on the lies piling up.

Damian could handle it alone, he could handle himself alone. There was no need to introduce new characters to the crevices of his mind.

"You act as if everything I touch breaks!" The boy spat bitterly after the brief stand off of silence they allowed to conquer the cave. The eyes of the young man who's canvas he had stroked sorrowfully laid upon him. It tore his heart strings knowing that his cherishable family did not see a light within him. Tim couldn't even stomach to turn around and let his eyes sink into the blood covered boy. His back faced the others and his arms clamped against each other indicating his mind was in a different place. The teen must have been experiencing a sizable amount of guilt, considering the havoc reaping devil he allowed to escape him. Those two bodies were on his own hands as well.

The acrobat, stood with his arms folded mimicking the fellow bird that distanced himself from the conversation. His uniform was stained by the smattering spots of spilled wine and finger painting of the unresting tiny fiend. The domino mask he wore sealed away his uneasy eyes. The old Butler, stray a few inches away from the hot spot, and carried a countenance of distress, misery and panic. He was unsettled by the situation to say the least. His hand stretch between his lips and his cheeks in anticipation of the derating that would soon come from the oldest Wayne's mouth.

A stand off of a broken son and his snide supercilious father was beginning. Damian swallowed nervously, his parched throat crackling from the new feeling of liquid drizzling down. His eyes flew up to meet his father's making them shutter from the winter spheres withering him mercilessly. The man finally gave his cold unsympathetic response.

Those melting cold eyes, the disdain parting of his lips, humbled the boy, "Because it does. You can never control yourself and look at what that has caused!" The sudden barking startled the boy causing him to clumsy flush out his mind for a persuading answer.

"They were trying to attack me!" He shrieked trying his hardest to hold together his composure. His face was cracking by the minute and sooner or later he would be a huge mess begging his father for forgiveness.

"Damnit! That doesn't give you an excuse to kill Damian! You know this!" Bruce seemed to be choking bad a lot of angry word choice but chose to use semi euphemisms as a substitute. Wondering the true severity in his dialect was crippling.

"They deserved it." Damian was losing hope in believing his father's wrath could be circumvented.

"DAMIAN!" He yelled in disappointed infuriation.

"It's true." Damian grumbled yet it came out more related to a squeak. In reaction to the chiding his head bore to the side, and his arms folded in towards his bosom protectively.

"LOOK AT ME!" His father's eyes lit up with flames that had shaken the child to his core. The hatred and unloving characteristics of this man in a bat suit was quickly seeping into his skin and finding its way into his spirit. These feelings of being unwanted, taxing, and seen as a headache more than a child was eating him up inside. He was a toxin, a plague that fucked up everything good in the beautiful flourish game of life.

His eyes dallied shakily towards his superior. He was suffering from engaging with this man.  
"Do you understand what you've done??!"

"It was an accident!" Damian retorted charily inching away from his attacker ever so slightly. But the man persisted his bellowing anger. Tim couldn't seem to withstand the chastising that was the result of his own negligence and slowly removed himself from the cave. Damian's eyes drifted to the corner to watch the red bird leave, they were full of regret and shame. But the conversation with his father wasn't over.

"How could it have possibly been an accident?!"

"I don't know—it just happened! It's not my fault! " He gurgled irritatedly and pathetically. The battle was already lost.

Bruce grew quiet for a moment. The pause was short but felt eternal and everlasting to the troublesome devil trembling in his interior. Dick's and Alfred weary eyes continued to spectate the sad sight, and the Bat finally parted his lips to utter his conclusion in an overworked manner.

"I can't do this with you anymore. I'm not going to listen to your excuses when I should be repairing the damage you've caused. You are the most exhausting and malevolent person I've ever met. I can't deal with you like this anymore. Leave my sight. I don't want to see your face any longer."

Damian's small frame lost almost all of it's vigor within the short time frame the words were received. The little amount of color drained from his hot cheeks and soaked into his blood stained clothing. Finally, his ambivalent assumptions of his father's stance on his was uncovered. All is revealed. He was an unwanted, and unloved child.

"But—" he threw one last attempt to change the man's mind but it was useless.

"NOW." He boomed with so much authority the boy became frightened and discombobulated. Damian was obedient and turned to make his way towards the shower area. But, his heart was filling up with acrimonious frustration and melancholy.

"And clean yourself up." Bruce finished, as his voice settled to its routine stoicism.

Damian insides squirmed restlessly, but he was unsure of the actions he would allow him to peruse. Murder was already something accomplished that night and was highly unlikely to happen again. But he felt so viciously lost and confused it was draining to live with such wild emotions.

A light hand collided with his sunken shoulders sparking a quick connection to his brain to instantaneously attack. The boy spun and forcefully shoved his arms at the being companying the humane gesture. Unbeknownst to him, it had been the old man he left stumbling for balance from his rage filled arms. The exclamation of the scene grabbed the attention of everyone in the cave. Even Damian himself was left in complete shock from the push he delivered to the butler. He was beginning to become out of control, he was a danger. The child's heart rate shot up immediately following and his bloodied hands clasped again his mouth. Air in his throat began to vanish without warning, he couldn't breathe. Pink flushed his face as his lungs trembled.

It wasn't difficult to decipher the utter disgust plastered on his father's face as he silently but swiftly approached the imp. Damian wasn't slow to understand the resentment the man carried either, as his eyes dreadfully watched his father travel closer and closer to him. The boy was glued to the ground, not daring to move. There they were, with a disproportionate face to face stare down. Damian's eyes grew small as they enter the sphere of displeasuring influence Bruce held in his own blue eyes.

The sound was sudden but echoed through the undergrounds. The spinning boy tries to regain his balance and analysis what had just occurred. Bruce's hand flew gracefully yet bitterly to his opposite side. Damian rose his palm and placed it upon his now apple ripen cheek. The prints of the man's finger tips were still eminent. The wounded son looked up at his father terrified. But compassion did not greet him lovingly, only the merciless satisfaction of his provider. The boy had no choice but to scurry off for safety, and scurry he did.

Dick stared wide eyes gripping on Alfred's arm to stabilize the man. "Bruce, oh my god! You didn't have to be that rough."

"He doesn't listen!" Bruce barked back to the baffled blue bird. His eyes swollen with uncontrollable stress.

"But don't you think you were being harsh??!" Dick argued passionately.

"He killed someone tonight, I'm being magnanimous." Bruce corrected with an adamant view point on the situation. His son was a murderer, so a slap in the face and a stern lecturing was nothing compared to taking away two lives in one sweep. It's difficult to know what to do when you know your own child was the one holding the weapon. He was the perpetrator and not the victim. Having such things on a conscious is tiring.

"He's just a kid!" Dick remarked, his wholeheartedness always seemed to show in the worse hours. No matter the situation, the young man's big heart beat louder than any drum. Some would say he was too compassionate in certain situations, much like this.

"He's not just a kid. He's more than that." The bat corrected emphasizing how dreadfully idiosyncratic his seed had become. What an extraordinary creature his son was. An untamable beast created by a wicked witch and her followers.

"I'm a monster..." Damian whispered earnestly to himself. While the two heroes bickered, the boy crotched in an ear shot distance somewhere deeper within the cave. His ears had begged to stay and listen to opinions about himself while he was not present. That's when words were most sincere and it was not altered to fancy the subject of conversation. He felt heavy in his chest as he struggled to breathe properly, the agitation of the night was taking its toll. The boy took one finally huff before exiting the range of the altercation, to rid his foul disgusting body of the stench of death.

~~~

Fresh and squeaky clean was now the status of the boy's external, but the demon internal was a muddy and grimy. He patted the towel against his blood drained skin, sucking up the droplets of water tugging at his face. His eyes trailed down to the scars on his wrist and his thighs, making him sigh miserably. Some had scabbed over and others were fresh like a newly blossomed garden of roses. They were not bleeding but the bright streaks of red were impossible to go unseen. But he was lucky enough to have a butler that frequently adapted to the flavor the boy was most keen to. Damian had become accustom to routinely wearing his long sleeves and turtlenecks as if he was trying a new style. The boy took a prideful and comfortable stance towards his fashion to show the unorthodox was his genuine standard. Damian wouldn't believe anyone thought he wore concealing clothing because he was depressed and self harmed frequently; they were blind to this ugly side of him. They most likely assumed that this was just a strange child from a strange world. The freak, the weirdo, the aberration. But the son of the Bat was thankful that a warm lengthy night shirt and pants was laid out for him. It made his mind spin, knowing Alfred was such a generous and kind soul, and he treated him the way he did.

When the clothing slipped on, that feeling of safety drenched over him again.

Disappointment and frustration was such a common emotion he experienced and it ruined his days, each worse that than the  
last. Why did he keep hurting himself? All he had to do was stop. Just stop picking up the blade and live his life.

He took one last look around the green tile wall before he left the cave's changing area. Feet quickly dashed up the steps in embarrassment and humiliation to reach higher ground. He needed to disappear and escape from his existence..It was as if the only solution to his problems besides death was sleep.

The boy soon found himself sunken between the cushion and the light blanket that covered him. His eye lids droopy and dazed, collapsed against their partner lifting the child into the second realm.

  
Before he knew it however, he received slight nudges against his shoulder. His sleep was now being disrupted by an unknown force. The boy groaned and his fingers prickled in to form little balls. Another undeciphered motion followed causing him to flutter his sticky eye lids open. The weary countenance of the prototype loyal retainer, rendered his anxiety at full blast but his body refused to respond in the same fashion. He was heavy and slow to respond to the bird's calls.

"What's going on?" The young imp groggily questioned as he watch the stretched out hand slowly slide to the young lad's side. The tired sorrow in his eyes lingered strongly, as his lips spoke quietly but cautiously.

"Bruce wants to have a word with you." He stated calmly as if he was uninterested in dealing with this child's unnatural behavior. He spoke again hastily, "We all need to talk."

"Why? what's going on?" The thin layered sheets were pushed to the boy's thighs as he slid into an alert sitting position. That same guilt that had festered from earlier that night overwhelmed his very existence.

"Come and see." The man circumvented with ease, giving little respect to the creature laying in a child's bed. Although, Damian was not one to entertain beating around brushes and dodging questions, he accepted Dick's responses that sounded unsettling to the ear. With little time wasted, the blue fowl strolled out the room and if Damian had seen correctly, his face grew dark and unrecognizable. But, the fiend did not stop and ponder due to the compiling pressure tossed onto him by all the other people in his world. The boy's white face looked ghostly and more sunken than it had appeared before. His bare feet zipped into the hallway to follow the trail of crumbs the messenger placed rudely on the floor. Dick was not there to guide the boy, nor was he there to comfort him before he faced another notorious trial. The young man had simply disappeared without a trace, leaving Damian all alone to find his own way.

Eventually however, the youngest boy in the large manor managed to discover the area with the judge, jury, and executioner. It was embarrassing to come face to face once again with his family like this. In a rut of shame, he studied to large living room. There was a small fire that crackled in the corner and was the only light source that challenged the moon's own natural glow. It painted the ominous looks of his fellow men with streaks of warm oranges, yellows, and reds. Bruce sat in one of the old arm chairs with his broad shoulders hunched up and his hands mingled in a pondering position. There was not anything new about the dead and serious expressions his father carried daily. But, the boy's eyes traveled over to his rival, slouched on a couple couch displaying a shocking phenomenon. There he sat covered in his usual red coated vigilantly uniform but something similar, yet antediluvian and out dated caught his attention. The teen's limbs bled a solid shade of popping green which was certainly incorrect for his Red Robin attire. But this was because the boy was wearing an old suite that finally shoved Damian off his pedestal of pride and victory. The robin mantle, his badge of honor, was stripped away and handed to someone else.

"Drake??" The boy shuttered in such shock and disbelief. He was only answered with a diminutive gesture from the teens grinning lips, spiced with malice. Damian swallowed and looked towards his father for guidance, for answers!

"Father—... what's the meaning of this??" His voice was almost a whimper.

Instead of a immediate loving reaction to the grievances of his child, the man spoke unmoved, "I as well as everyone else, have come to the conclusion that you are no longer wanted here." The boy's body collapsed in on itself. If he could have lost more melanin, his dark hair would burst into snow.

"What..what are you talking about?" He awkwardly proceeded, expecting the worse.

"Don't act dumb Damian, you know why we're getting rid of you." A sly and sudden remark was made by the reinstalled robin. Damian raced to find reconciliation with his remaining allies.

"Dick??" He whispered as his lips quivered. But Dick did not respond properly as his focus was mostly drawn to the long portrait windows connecting to the outside world.

"It's true, you're too much of a problem for us to handle...We have to remove you."

"Alfred???" He shivered only to be met with an embarrassed head turn from the butler. His face was shaded making it impossible to analyze his expression, but his response was enough information to conclude that no one had his back. His heart skipped a beat.

"No—no! I can change, please! Please, find the mercy in your heart to forgive me.—I know I'm asking a lot of you all but... you're the only people I have!" At the point, he was wheezing and trying to cough up as much sincerity as he possible could. He was hurting so much and there wasn't much around to cling to.

"It's too late for all of that. You stupid fucking idiot, no one is looking to sympathize with you! " Tim spat manically.

"You should have thought of that before you acted the way you did." Bruce followed with the same emphasis of little remorse.

"It was a mistake! I swear!" Damian urged.

"Damian you are the damn mistake. You are the problem. You're a disgraceful problem for all of us." Dick followed through with a hollow response unexpected.

"I'm not a mistake..." Damian whined softly with great pain. As much as he probably thought about it, he did not expect Dick to use that type of vocabulary.

"You can say you're not, but you are." Tim chuckled wildly. Everything was so blurry and fast moving. Did they really hate him this much? His mistake was too great for a simple slap on the wrist, he had finally pushed his peers over the edge.

"Master Bruce, she has arrived." Alfred stated from the door way. It caught Damian's attention quickly. Who was this unknown person entering their domain?

"Who's here??"

"Shut up." Bruce commanded as if he was addressing an uncivil dog. Titus would not even receive such treatment, but the boy was less than human.

"No! What's going on?! I demand to know!" The child spoke again becoming increasingly anxious and full of unrest.

"Even in your last hours in this household, you still act like a spiteful brat." Dick said in a chilling deep monotone that took Damian out of himself for a second. He was drifting in a black void, trying to comprehend what was taking place. Trying to find his footing in the collateral damage he had caused.

He was quickly zapped back to life when a new voice called to him with a smooth feminine velvet undertone.

"Damian."

The boy glanced over to the door way with the old butler and another figure. His body was engulfed in dread as he turned towards his father once more.

"No... not her... please! Father please! I beg of you!" He cried as he collapsed in front of the man's knees in the most weak, and vulnerable stance he had ever taken before. He was completely dependent on Bruce's final decision.

"You're no son of mine." The man's voice was frozen over.

The woman in the doorway took a couple of steps into the room, causing muffled clacking from her heels. Her face was dim and little light touched her face. Depict this fact, her mouth held a sound smile and her red lipstick made her wicked grin stand out.  
"My child, I have come for you." She spoke.

"NO YOU CANT DO THIS!!" Damian shouted tugging his small hands at the man's pants but got little acknowledgement. As he continued to beg and pledge with his father, two pairs of hands scooped his frame up from the floor, dragging him towards the doorway where the butler and the woman stood. Damian yelped and screamed, thrashing against the two former robins for his freedom. But, the two prevailed over his buffoonish attempts to be released.

"My love, I will dispose of this dysfunctional child, as I should have done long ago." The woman spoke again. Her voice was warm yet warnings carried with it. Her thick grin still sat pretty on her darkened face as she watched the animal struggle.

"Thank you Talia." Bruce said as he emotionlessly watch his blood be carried away. He was allowing his son to be taken away by a clearly insane woman without concern.

"STOP! NO! LET GO OF ME! FATHER!!" The boy screamed one final time before being placed into the arms of the dreadful woman he knew as his mother.

 

His form shot up wildly in a suffocating panic, his mouth quickly gasped for the refreshments of the air around him. The fulling of his lunges was cripplingly and irregular, causing unnatural heaving to quietly echo off into the room. His golf ball eyes were wide as the reflection of his pupils soared in the twilight crashing through his open blinds. Cold beads of sweat drizzled down every inch of his body, and salty liquid drench his face as he continued to choke. His body seemed as if he had stood outside in the rain. He had become so shaken up by what had conspired in his unconscious and subconscious state of mind. He clasps his clammy hands against his face.  
  
The black canine by his bed side raised attentively to his young master when the sound of chaos awoke him. A small croak coughed leaped from the boy's maw, causing the dog to stand and carry its frame to its owner. The feeble child had curled up against the same wall that his small bed was pressed against. The sheet that had once covered him with warmth was a wet mess hanging off the bed and drooping on the floor. A garden of roses had bloomed on his nose and looped around his now crying eyes. The ocean water rushed down his cheeks in excessive overwhelming globs, his sweat baked skin could not retain the amount of droplets crashing out of the boy's wet lids.

Never before had he outwardly expressed such genuine agony in his short existence. With every chip at his self image, his solemn composure lessened and lessened into pure melancholy. He was becoming a broken tool with each passing day, and was uncertain if any spiritual carpenter could repair him. Nothing could save the boy who had fallen many stories away from his original position. He was but a shell of his former self.

The black bubbling liquid poured out of his chest for he could not contain the loud pestering whines that played through his broken heart. He could not tell himself to stop crying, he could not simple command himself to restore the steady order he created in his miserable mentality. The only signal alerting his body was the need to weep thunderously. These were no mere slight whimpers, the shrunken child was balling his eyes out.

The Great Dane scurried to the side of his heartbroken owner attempting to console him with the best abilities an animal could use. The black beast rubbed its bold head along the boy's toes and brushed against his shins. But, the child's drawn out hands did not welcome the canine's love, they instead swot at the animal seeking agonizing poignant refugee in himself and only himself. It caused Titus to whine, however, he stay obedient and lowered his large form to the ground. He returned to his resting position pushed betwixt the bed and the floor.

The boy carried on his adamant screams caring little about the repercussions that would follow. His insides had finally ruptured and he could no longer be compressed in his diminutive body. There was unrealistic hope in the ability to simply cry out his depression, to drain himself of the watery sable that had piled up just by emitting a gross cry.

He wanted to hurt himself, he wanted to do it so badly, to calm his nerves and give him that ephemeral high to refresh his thoughts. To furiously slight his wrist open in a tortuous and depriving manner. But his body was stuck in the sunken state of sweat, snot and tears curled up stiffly on the small bed.

The twisting and wriggling of his doorknob is drowned out by the profuse audible sobs cluttering the room. The door finally jiggled open, letting the lightning in the hallway sneak in, leaving a rectangular imprint on the surroundings. Tears continued to stream down his shallow face as the figure hurried into the darkness and towards the shaken up child. It was Alfred who had heard the alarming sounds drifting through the manor.

The old man wrapped his arms around the boy, clutching him with snug solicitude. His wails carried, breaking the butler's heart as he cradled the sad bird and rubbed small circles into his slick back. No words were spoken. The two sat while the boy grieved loudly through the night, until the noise ceased.


	11. Sorry I'm a Mistake

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rock Bottom

Sunlight crept into the room, through the drawn drapes and bounced off of the many elements and decor scattered throughout. It was quiet, excluding the minstrel sounds of birds chirping, and it delivered a peaceful untampered vibe. Damian's eyes would have twinkled beautifully like an April shower filled lake ready in the prime of spring, but they were puffy and sunken, dimming his usually fierce pupils. The exterior organ covering his entire body was an ice cold vanilla that had lost all of its previous rich hot olive complexion that danced about. His lips, dry and cracking, were listlessly ajar emphasizing the dullness in his smashed soul. His hair stood tall like wild weeds purging a garden. The black strands were normally extremely tidy and well groomed even if he had just awoken from a deep slumber. He used to be well cared for in terms of appearance; however, the growing weight in his heart made his self respect shrivel like a dried raisin baking in the summer heat. The occurrence of last night had only exacerbated his mood leaving him deeper inside the collapsed hole of darkness in his breast.

His fingers peeked out of his shell of a night shirt and curled languidly. The keratin growing from his nail beds were abnormally long for his standards, but they were an acceptable size for a young female adoring herself. The tiny movements of the digits indicated life, but it was very faint and tiresome. Sunlight kissed his muted forehead as the remainder of his figure maintained in a still posture, like deteriorating cement possessing countless cracks and holes. His muddy eyes batted, and his gaze empty heartedly fell to the floor.

Damian wouldn't move. No, he wasn't experiencing an incalculably phenomenon such as a dreadful wrestle with sleep paralysis. Although circumstantially similar, the child's problem did not dwell as close to the physical surface as the muscle connection to the brain during sleep, but it settled much closer to the bottom of his psyche. Do not be mistaken, the boy was physically capable of leaping from his forgotten ravaged nightmare and clear his cluttered slate for a new day, but he couldn't move. Someone was sitting on his spine; the backside of a shadowy transparent figure pressed firmly upon him, restraining the boy from escaping. It was that creature, the one that continued to torment him mercilessly, and caused him to so barbarically explode with odium aimed at himself, and the targets around him. The animal sat and smiled happily with itself. It took a dark humanoid shape but still mirrored those same cruel watery eyes that the demon child owned. The weight continued to increase and his eyes clenched tautly. Unable to overthrow the beast atop him, he condoned its pestering shamefully and a sighed of agitation fluttered from his lips.

The pounds of emotion that had continued to stack on him was truly showing it's long term effects at this point of decay. No matter how strong this child previously believed himself to be, the only obstacle that mattered, the one true adversary, his own mentally was triumphant over him in every way imaginable. His yearning for acceptances and love and tenderness, from his mother, his father, his peers and himself, it all broke him little by little because everything was so unattainable. Damian allowed his feelings to go unchecked and untamed, and the neglect strengthened and nurtured the nuisance until it swallowed him whole. Now he powerlessly rested in it's belly in enteral darkness. If you allow a weed to grow in your garden, it will eventually spread like a cancer. Thus, the weed was no different from the mighty feeling of high stature, hubris, self doubt, hatred, self frustration, perfection, and urgent need for real affection and that was so solemnly beaten into him through abusive repetition.

Unfortunately but no unexpectedly, the toxic foundation that flourished overtime eventually collapsed in on itself. It hurt. It hurt a tremendous amount to know that you failed on everything you were supposed to live up to. You've become so weak and allow people that you know are below you claw at your heart and break your protection. You've disappointed all the ones you finally feel like your genuinely love and care about. You've opened up your cold lonely and isolated heart leaving yourself vulnerable to whatever predators lurking and waiting for the moment you choose to wear your heart on your sleeve. And the saddest part is when you go through this hellish environment hoping with every ounce of positivity you have left, that's drying up by the second, that the light at the end of the tunnel isn't some spurious fantasy you foolishly conjured in your mind. But the happy ending is torn out of the fairytale and you are left broken and unable to comprehend any further logically action, unable to firmly grasp onto the meaning of life.

Yes.

That was Damian in this very moment.

A naive, misunderstood child with bonafide feelings of self hatred and despondency. Someone who once was an all powerful son with the power to adjudicate who had a chance to live and who was tossed aside to join their brothers and sisters in death. But now he was like a feeble insect curling in on itself after being seen as disgusting or vile, and then soon being crush by a large shoe. His entrails were every color but red, yet still squeezing out of his severed exoskeleton.

How does it feel to think— no, to know you're a failure.

You are the failure, the mistake, the impurity that everyone wants to rid themselves of.

How does it feel?

Not very good right?

Not very good is a phrase too diminutive to describe the feelings harboring underneath the child's slimming flesh.

Damian continued to bask in his dejected position. It had been about a couple of hours since he had, if you can even call it, fully waken up. Yet, he was unaware of this for his body had not wiggled or turned or even twisted out of that spot that was probably imprinted into the sheets by now. His eyes still stayed glued to the carpet, far too distant from this realm. Someone had wandered into his room at some point, due to the toggling of the door handle and the creaking it made.  
He didn't move to face the person that entered. His back was facing the unannounced figure and he remained chillingly still as they quietly shuttled in, rolling something hither his bedside. The pattering shoes pressing smoothly against the floor soon vanished, leaving the laying child isolated once more.

But he didn't turn or acknowledge the gifts and goodies piled neatly on the cart, instead his focus remained on the pointless objects in his visual. The hole that previously left an ugly concave in the wall was now restored, leaving only little hints of disturbance in the structure. The woebegone look rubbed against his pale skin emphasized the neglectful behavior towards his infirm figure nestled in the sheets. An unnerving urge to urinate slowly constructed itself during the passing minutes Damian took setting himself to dry. Although this ballooning pressure settled in his lower regime, he did not give in to relieve himself. This behavior shouldn't be mistaken for a strong sense of determination or will in oneself, but rather complete and utter condoning of self loathing and abandonment of inner strength. That pressure that still lounged on his body, somehow seeped into his spirit as well, sucking the life out of his will to function.

The actions presented were alien to the boy and a deep crevice in his mind pondered on this, wondering how things had crumbled to this point. Where was that lively fierce burning kid that conquered all challenges given to him? Where was that unstoppable force that kept his advisories on their toes? Well, he was here, fighting back the impulse to drench the sheets in bright yellow liquid. Can you imagine that? Being so low within yourself that you no longer have the decency to take your physical health into accountability? Or, being confused enough to be ambivalent on whether or not your should piss yourself in bed, instead of properly using the bathroom?

' _Get up. You are sleeping the day away. It's gorgeous outside, preform a task that's actually useful for once. What's the point..? It's not like I'm truly capable of doing anything right. Tt...You're so shallow, you ar_ e such a brat. I can not stand your excessive whining.'

It's disturbing, yet impressively incredible how humans can react after a defeat at this level. A level so below the surface area that all the numerous colors fade into shallow grays, and there's not much meaning to life anymore. It's marvelous qualities are stripped from its back and tossed into consuming darkness.

' _Get up._  
I can't...  
Ahhh! You're so frustrating. You're so steadfast...You at you wallowing in your own filth! Before you know it you're going to be laying in your own feces. You disgusting foul animal! Stop... I just need time to meditate... on what?? Stop wasting so much time and uphold this worthless body of yours. You can't fathom the amount of repugnance I harbor all because of you. I want you dead. Just like the others want you dead.'

  
This new heavy feeling that clouded his soul slowly began to unwind and that deep emptiness was becoming wholesome, like an ocean wave riding into the angled shore. Fear fluttered in the pit of his stomach and his legs began to grow weak, as he realized how much little control he had over his mentality. He was usually so firm to guide himself though all task, meticulously perfecting anything to a tee. But his drive for success had vanished and its return startled him.

The sapphire pupils in his skull began to spark in the intersecting rays of shine, once he managed to lift his form from the barren position he kept. His eyes twitched and his hands flew up to accommodate them by rubbing gently. His tired eyes hovered over towards his arms as if there was an urgent need for a status update. The boy stands because of the alarming signals begging him for relief. His eyes took quick glances around his freshly illuminated room, glimpsing at the tray of early repast wheeled to his beside, and skimming across the swaying branches outside his window.

Using his bathroom is a gratuitous act to describe; nonetheless, his long awaited trip wasn't ephemeral either. There he stood, his vision fixated on the mirror. In the reflective object, his sleeves were pushed up to his elbow exposing the red railroads on his wrist. That shameful feeling in his pit simmered up again making slight nausea crawl up the back of his spine. It was buffoonish to blame all of these scars on something like a feline of sorts. Besides, he had scared that animal off long ago.

He had not hurt himself since his Thursday appearance in school. Two days without touching the aging blade. Should he get an award for his heroic behavior? That's up to you to decide, but he felt anything but proud in that moment. Perhaps the foreign feeling of pure helplessness and emptiness, was from cutting withdrawals. Or maybe the events prior was something he could not fathom to strategically deal with.

He was being so reckless and clumsy with cleaning up all traces of his self laceration. Everything just seemed too out of the ordinary to brush off anymore. Tim had given him a harsh, but true status update; to yell at the boy in public about his unpleasant attitude. But Damian was grateful the older boy pointed out the flaws in his mask, allowing him time to fix them.

Reconfigure his unhappiness and sorrow for anger, rage and frustration.

Outwardly disguise his 'outings' for missions.

Eat normally when he needs to.

He wasn't sure how he was going to pull any of this off, but he had to. He was smart enough to cover up the invisible traces of gloom he smothered around the manor. It was a shame he had to use the mirage of being robin as a cover up story. To purposely go against his father's wishes,to break his end of the deal; everything was become confusing. Ugh... his emotions were so revolting.

He takes a hand and pops open the side of the mirror, causing the edges to creak open towards him. His fingers fumble around in the cabinet until he finds the forsaken sharpness he so desperately needs. The blade slides into his grasp and he looks at it for a moment.

It did not harbor that temping glistening that lured him at the beginning. The blade was a dark shade, with brown rusting spots scattered around. The asperity of the tip wasn't very inviting making him toss it angrily in the corner. It wasn't a good blade anymore which now made a priority to claim a new one. His hand ran down his face as angsty thoughts filled his head.

' _I need relief...I need relief...Ineed relief... Ineedrelief.. IneedreliefIneedrelief... IneedreliefIneedreliefIneedreliefIneedreliefIneedreliefIneedreliefIneedreliefIneedreliefIneedreliefIneedreliefIneedreliefIneedreliefIneedreliefIneedreliefIneedreliefIneedrelief'_

_'I can't..'_

 

The morning was stressful for the child and that only lead to a more stressful afternoon. He had forced fed himself the food in his room trying to return some color to his face. He took a long steamy shower following his usual wallowing at the bottom of the tub. Eventually, he was able to force himself down the stairs to retrain some of his lost aptitude.

Damian had not seen his father at all that day. The man could either be busy or too annoyed to be around him. It made him feel pain while he thought about it, but was projected outward through the training dummies and machinery. He had overhead Tim and Dick talking about him, and what he did last night. Snippets of the conversation touched his ears but it was enough to learn that the lives he had taken were a group of thugs that were working for Black Mask.

In spite of this, it didn't make him feel better about his actions.

The day had been wasted away and the child was becoming unrestful and congested in the confines of the manor. If he were to stay inside any longer there wasn't much stopping him from snapping.

Ironically, there wasn't an update of surveillance and supervision on him after he had killed those men. Maybe it was all a work in progress and everyone was too shocked to move quickly. Regardless, Damian craved to be free from this prison he wasn't sure he called home. If it meant being disobedient one more time it would be worth it.

He pulled out his robin uniform and was quick to fully dress himself. Feeling his forgotten customs wrapped around him brought a long awaited warmth to his body, almost similar to happiness. The fog of depression and anxiety was pushed to the side in that instance. Life rejuvenated his system and a soft smile grew on his lips. This was most likely a temporary sense of light heartedness. Like a sweet and sugary strawberry cake given to the birthday boy. Everyone enjoys the treat, but it eventually vanishes off the plate.

But this didn't hinder the boy's enthusiasm as he chuckled softly to himself. Strength and resolution sprouted from his core as he pranced around the seemingly empty cave. His teeth sparkled without blending into his similar white skin. Before he covered his face with his mask, his eyes rotated like typhoons; the waves splashing out of the edge of his pupils.

Damian had uneventful plans for tonight, but being robin made everything better by the millions. He did not care how unnecessary putting the spandex on was.

The agenda was to remove whatever blood soaked materials he had previously left hidden in his room. Dodging Alfred's cleaning schedule seem to increase in difficulty. Disposing of his mess was crucial if he wanted his secret to remain undisturbed. The boy imagined his father finding out, causing his flowery face to shrivel up.

' _He would see you as a disappointment. That fact is obvious. Oh, I forgot how dim witted you are. I would rather not have him discover... this thing... I've been doing to myself. Yes, if he knew that you cut yourself you can see all your respect vanishing by the second. I don't want him to know. I don't want any of them to know. I'm so stupid... why do I do this... it's so idiotic and low, yet I proceed to do it day after day... I-It makes me feel better. I fully know it's not supposed to.. well, it's not a healthy way of coping with anything.. but it's better when I do it. They make me so ugly , they're hideous.. They're just fucking scars, I get scars all the time. You're so insecure. You really are an idiot if you think comparing self inflicted wounds to honorable battle scars is okay. Why does it matter? Father hates me regardless if I purposely... harm myself, or not. He doesn't want a son such as myself. So why do you get a chance to feel sorry for yourself? All the pity parties you throw, and the all wrist cutting and leg cutting you do, it's all weakness. You're weak. He doesn't want, nor does he need a weak worthless and useless son like yourself.'_

_'You solemnly believe he wishes for my death?'_

_  
'Absolutely.'_

 

  
' _Do you wish to die?'_

_  
'I'm not sure at this moment.'_

As his head swarmed, he sluggishly dragged himself to the weaponry. He took his hand, placing it on a reading screen and using the other to tap in a code. It had surprisingly granted him entry and he began to plumage for his needs. From there he grabbed a grapple and a couple of folded up batarangs. He made note to keep one for _personal_ use, due to his predicament.

He just needed some fresh air away from this forsaken place, away from the scorn that permeated, and away from the constant reminder of his faults. Damian took hold of the black bag he got accustom to discarding and clipped it to the side of his half full belt. Discernment flushed his face as he decided on a good place to destroy the evidence. The last time when he had hopped over the brick wall in the backyard, he scurried to find the first civilian filled area he could. Not out of carelessness... or maybe it was out of carelessness, or dilution. But, he recklessly figured a well used receptacle would fulfill his needs. Now that he had some new toys to play with, he could accomplish more than a quick trip to the city; he could sight see to his hearts desire. Damian was a dog. A dog who's owner forgot to close the gate. But the vicious nature the animal had was now curved to a more passive manner, leaving him to sniff any and everything. A tiny light flutter under all the black guck, tickled the pit of his stomach.

His eyes raced around the cave one more time until he proceeded to exit as hastily as he could.

  
~~~

  
All good things must come to an end, and Damian knew that well.

His eyes traced the sides of the murky water, its old waves carelessly flowing along the thick wooden infrastructure of the harbor. His legs dangled above the dim lit ground, the red laces snaking up his green knee high boots drooped as if they were reaching for the hard surface below them. The spot under his bum was beginning to heat up the wavy metal storage units towering above the main level. He wasn't quite certain the time he had spent staring down at the dark water sparkling from the full moon dipping into the horizon. But, his tired sunken eyes stayed fixated under the secondary facade , the green domino mask. How he direly dreamed to be swallowed up and consumed by the waves, to toss his body into the deep dark abyss and never be uncovered. Just to feel his lungs burn up from ingesting large sums of liquid, and happily watching his last breath escape and scurry towards the surface. The excoriating pain of water filling up the body is how he wanted to experience his last feelings in this realm.

Yes, he wanted to drown.

To dive off the end of the dock and propel his arms and legs as hard as he could, and for as long as he could, until he no longer had an ounce of strength in his system. After that it would be up to the current to decide his fate, his final moments in life would be a state of crushing rest. But, he was too much of a coward to attempt such a thing. His mind screamed yes, the organ in his head commanded his body to get up and tear itself apart, but it refused to move. His body ached and the hairs tingling on his skin constantly whispered no's. He couldn't bring himself to end his life.

He knew how detrimental he was to the people around him, he knew the consistent perils that resonated deep within and thought it was his destiny to cleanse the dirt and filth. He wanted to purge this evil that would never separate from his frame, yet something deep down stopped him. That instinct for survival that was hardwired and programmed into his existence. It was like a small child afraid to double dutch. The jump rope would swing by so fast there wasn't any good timing to scramble in between the rope.

Damian gathered himself and settled on returning to the manor to regain all of his removed troubles. He slowly moved making sure to remain out of the exposing luminary.

A quick rattling filled his ears and he sensed approaching. His movement ceased as he concentrated on deciphering the sound. The storming of foot continued to drill through him as he leaped down from the crate, with a slither of ungracefulness. He shifted his hand towards his side and retrieved one of the batarangs. It was obvious anyone making such a ruckus did not belong.

The baby bird didn't make his presence known, and turned to catch the feet thrusting towards him. His eyes expanded like baking bread and he forgot to breathe for a moment.

"What are you doing here?" The feet suddenly stopped in front of him making the boy lower his offensive arms.

"I could ask you the same." Damian retorted begrudgingly as he placed a new mask over his face.

"Well, I asked you first." The man replied with full audibility under the ruby glimmering mask enclosing his head. To match, a deep red bat like emblem lit up his spandex covered chest. A worn out over used hazel jacket draped over his torso, allowing his arms to snake down to his side. In his grasp were dual pistols snug between the confides of his gloved hands.

Damian frowned bitterly raising his milky white masked eyes at the man's. "I'm not obligated to explain anything to you." Damian uttered, pointing the sharp blade at the Red Hood aggressively.

"I could have sworn your old man put you on a leash." He spoke seriously, but was nonetheless coated in his unique humor. The comment plopped on the boy's head making him groan with irritation.

"I am not some animal. I will do as I please. He's not in charge of me or my decisions." Damian objected.

  
The black sheep's gaze shifted for a moment. His stance was tense like he was still stuck within a strict obligation. "Look— you're wasting my time." He stated, trying to place himself back into his task.

"I gotta go."

As the man turned to leave, Damian didn't sit back and watch. His steps syncopated with the other male as he resumed his urgent travels.

"Wait!" The boy squeaked as he ran.

"What?!" It was apparent Damian was being a hinderance. But, the man slowed down, in the vast ship yard they raced through.

"Make it quick. I'm on a tight schedule." He grumbled placing one of the twins back into the holster.

"They probably got a way by now.."

Damian's face was smattered with the lightest shade of pink. "Who got away? What is your business here?"

"Chasing down an artillery shipment." He answered looking eager to depart. But the boy was eternally excited to jump back into the fulfilling work of a vigilante.

"What for? I want in." He prompted.

"No... there is no in, you need to go home." The man replied beginning to walk slowly to create separation from the wandering child.

"I can be a valuable asset in your operation." Damian continued, trying to sell himself to the former robin. All he wanted was to be needed for something; to fill that hole resting inside his throbbing heart.

"Thanks, but no thanks. I don't wanna be responsible for you getting hurt or something stupid like that."

"I'm not going to get hurt. Do you have any idea who I am??" The rambling of the boy caused Jason to sigh, and raise his arm to his eyes to mimics looking at a wrist watch.

"Yeah, that's all cute. But... I don't really care. You're using up my time." His scarlet mask flashed a white streak of light as his whipped his head forward to leave. As much as he wanted to stay and chat, which wasn't the case, he had to take care of unannounced business. His boots hit the ground again as he restarted his pursuit. With years of muscle memory and training, he was propelling through the air with his arms clamped on his grapple.

He thought the slimy insect would crawl away or be far from him unable to follow, but there he was scouring behind him like a duckling following it's mother.

Jason took a pause on the rooftops, eyeing the boy with an unenthusiastic expression enshrouded in the confides of the red mask. "What are you doing?? Can you not hear?"

"I comprehended what you said, but I choice not to listen." The boy rashly replied. His voice filled with sad mischievous flames that sizzled against the man's ears.

"Quit being such a little smart ass." He grumbled as he studied the twinkling lights the city carried. The outcast of a man spoke once more, " Alright, I'll let you tag along. Just try not to get in my way."

Damian nodded instead of offering up a verbal response. His voice choked as he lingered on the last request asked of him.

'Just try not to get in my way.'

"Did you hear me?" Jason spoke glancing back for a second.

"Yes," the boy answered sharply but with a bit of hesitance.

"All I needed to hear."

"You never apprised me with any information." Damian said recharging some of his lost stigma.

"I did. I told you about the shipment. Now I'm trying to figure out where those two bums went." Jason countered.

"Well, can I have more to go off of?"

"Don't worry about everything so much and just follow along." Jason reinforced trying to stir the child away from his work.

The boy frowned but was quickly galvanized to move when Jason did. The man was fast and definitely didn't consider warning Damian of their sudden locomotion. Weights on his feet lessened his agileness as he leaped after the former robin. It was as if he was half a step behind everything. Like he was being restricted from his capabilities. Refusal to ingest nourishment and the dwindling of training had finally truly shown its implementation. He didn't quite posses an emaciated appearance and still excelled far beyond the limits of an everyday person; but, the way he carried himself was emasculated for his expectations and Jason's as well.

"There they are." Jason said slyly, his feet prancing with huffy movements as he approached the ground. Damian followed along carrying his deprived legs as fast as he could. His eyes met an interesting scene.

"You thought you could get away huh?" Jason asked rhetorically with a bit of a snickering crackling from under the hot bright mask. Damian landed on his feet tarrying behind the action. They had landed in an inconsequential area leading away from the harbor. The dirt was patted with the speckles of moonlight and discarded machinery no longer retaining any meaning. The boy eyes analysis slowly as he watches his father's former apprentice approach two men. A feeling of chilling familiarity tugged at him as he finally encouraged his feet to move. Those two men were so hazy and vague with little importance, but somehow he felt a personal connection to them, deep within every fiber of his body.

The boy was late to the action. Bullets sprayed throughout the air like a sprinkler in summer. Shells drummed against the dirt filled ground. Punches and kicks were being thrown from both sides, but Jason was primarily successful with his blows. Damian decided to bring his skills to the table to assist in this unfair battle happening in front of him.

Everything was good at first, the two struck in and out of sync using a small amount of effort to deliver throws to their foe. They were able to divide up the two goons and pick them apart separately. Damian took his guy on and wanted to finish him off with an easy quick fist in the face, so he could display his charm and motif. But, as he was in motion to land the finally hit, something clouded his vision. He could see the red, the limitless amount of red showering over everything. The thick dark liquid seeping into his fist. The blood covered hoodie as if he came out of a tour at a butcher shop.

It all took him out of focus.

The split second of lost concentration cost him a hit to the stomach as his opponent slung an anger fist into him. He lost his balance and stumbled to the ground still trying to recapture his senses in the real world.

Everything returned to that blurry state leaving him breathless. He remembered being greeted by the barrel of some type of firearm, yet again. This time it was close and breathed on his forehead. A well deserved bullet to the head would be nice. A quick painless snap of the finger to take him out of this world.

Jason wasn't having any of this and quickly aided the fallen boy, disarming his attacker.

"What the fuck are you doing?!" He hollered as the disequilibrium of the fight sunk in. It was a two on one that shifted into a comfortable pair of a one on one. Now, it was a two on one with the one protecting a stupid kid on the ground. The fight was supposed to be an easy victory for both of them but the tiny mistake unbalanced everything.

The curtail things and get to the chase, the two unnecessary man made their escape leaving two birds alone in the night. Jason reached his hand down to retrieve the dazed robin. Damian regathered himself and stood with an unsteady rhythm in his toes.

"What the hell was that?! You did exactly what I asked you not to do." Jason complained with an irked tone.

"Shit!" Damian blurted after a quick pause. It was such a short response without any elaboration but conjured all of his emotions.

The man was surprised to hear his response as his voice eased away from annoyance, "Whoa there kid."

"—I'm sorry!" Damian coughed again. His hands became shaky as they clasped onto the top of his dome. He inched back sporadically, lowering his head towards the ground.

"Hey, you okay?" Jason asked gingerly removing the head protector. His eyes were judicious under his domino mask. The boy continued to shake, prompting Jason to place a hand on his stiff shoulders. The man wasn't one for feeling or expressing empathy. But, this kid standing before him, cracking before his very eyes, it was such an anomalous display, even for the little he truly knew of him.

"Look at me. You good?" He spoke again, trying to maintain a softer tone to unravel the boy from his locked up position.

"Yeah... yeah... I'm fine." He sniffed reluctantly burying his head between his elbows.

"You don't look too hot." Jason reinstated keeping his focus.

"I... I uh... particularly... I'm.." the boy continued in an circuitous manner.

"Seriously, are you okay? I know we don't see eye to eye, but you're not looking the best right now."

The last words invoked a low dry sigh that was short. Jason remained quiet, encouraging him to continue with his thoughts. After several seconds of silence, the boy finally uttered a single word, soft and lugubrious.

"No."

 


	12. The Black Sheep and the Hellhound

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> More probably ooc Jason and Damian
> 
>  
> 
>  
> 
> Climbing up

 

  
"Not much here, but you want something to eat?" Jason asked placing that metal helmet like object on his bedside.

His gaze hovers over to the boy huddled in the lonely corner of his bedroom. The child's eyes burned into the floor and his arms folded. Without his mask, his pupils looked pasty, like a blue sky clogged up with factory ashes and soot. At first glance, Damian's posture could be seen as something similar to annoyance but Jason could feel a deeper message radiating from the strong stiffness his arms possessed. Much like a mirror, the man say that it was more than a petty expression of anger. There was some type of frustration, or confusion, something disconnecting him from a mellow state of mind.

He knew that this child soldier was not the same type of adolescent he was in his childhood. He possessed an unmatched sinisterness with an iced chocolates coated steel heart that cried for no one. But a stench floated into his nose that wouldn't let up.

In comparison, the two expressed themselves sometimes in a fashion that intertwined and other times, not so much. Damian could get very lively occasionally, and get ultimately carried away. Jason would very well do the same but nevertheless, the age difference made the boy preform childishly, with a much bigger ego than he had. There was nothing particularly wrong with this, well, besides the growing annoyance it brought, because after the dust settles, he's still just a child.

The reply to the ex robin's simple question was drawn out and slow, and harbored a sunken hollowness to it.  
"No."

The man threw his arms in the air lightly signaling light impatience. "Come on, you look like a ghost. All malnourished looking. Do they feed you kid?"

Damian frowns as his pupils flash up for a second to meet his questioner, and just as fast, shoot back at the floor. The grip of his arms tighten. "Yes, they do feed me.. I'm just managing a lot of stress."

The last phrase seemed to die out towards the end like a candle taking its last breath. Jason disrobed, tossing the brown jacket on his red bedding.

"I could see that when we were outside. Kids your age shouldn't be stressed like that." Jason muttered keeping his eyes on the boy. Unfortunately, the little robin didn't have much to counter the comment.

Damian thought of making one of his sly remarks that drove his father mad. But the instinct softened and was overturned by a strong guilt ridden feeling. Recently, he remained out of a joking mood, which was an odd shift but slow and subtle to settle into. They still made their way into the light once ever blue moon or so, but majority of the taunts were vaporized from his vocabulary. Besides, who needed an ill mannered peeving comment to roll off his tongue? Who needed him to speak at all?

No one.

He had to work on chaffing that rumbling feeling, symbolically in his middle. Restraining himself from speaking without any authoritarian permission or skipping out of line, to satisfy his own kiddish pleasures. There was no need to have his own opinion on any matters whatsoever. There was no need to feel entitled to anything he desired. In fact there was no need to live at all. For the soul purpose that he could not fulfill his duties.

Letting this man dive into the dark sticky endless pits of his soul only aroused unwarranted conflicts. Not only did the feeling of hindering another stop him, but the insecure egotism brushing against his cheeks weaved his lips together. He was afraid and flushed, unsure of the actions the ram like man would take. Despite the brick wall separating the dirty truth, his lips felt loose as if he'd break his commitment to himself. But the shame that would overcome him if he broke his silence was detrimental to every ounce of sanity he held sparingly, squeamish to disperse.

"You leaving anytime soon?"

Damian shrugged his shoulders finally pulling his head up to get a good look at his surroundings. No doubt he had been to this safe house before, but every time brought about something new to examine, whether out of sheer boredom or a cautious exterior. The room was overly plastered with shades of red, and it overpowered the quiet splotches of white hugging the walls and the cocoa brown wooden furniture. The scarlet color was strong as if it had concocted a livid violet out of the sky blue in both of their eyes.

A groan was let off by the man as he studied to pained expression stuck on the boy's face. "If you're not leaving then get comfortable."

The boy's eyes glanced up again, as he planted himself back into the broken up conversing they created ," Comfortable? In what manner do you expect me to be comfortable in?"

"I dunno. Just do me a favor and get outta that corner. I got— a decent amount of space, and you standing there is getting a little creepy."

In response his eyes twitched as if they were blushing, but no tangible hue grazed against his meagerly depressed, skeleton like cheekbones. Damian listened and inched away from the inclosed space, but it only led him to stand awkwardly in the middle of room like a lonesome island.

Jason got up and placed a firm gloved hand on his shoulder again. It was met with lack of attention as the child's eyes hesitantly shifted to the incased weaponry framed against the wall. The alignment of blades, from daggers to swords, carefully centered and cushioned with a velvet back. The display of guns snuggly tucked in its container. It was fair to say Jason was quite fond of his implements. But this wandering divergence of the eyes tries to take away from the conflict stirring within the air.

The hand, now lightly laying on his depleting deltoids was firm in a reassuring away. It was such a scanty gesture that rarely traveled to the surface of Jason's rage filled stand off persona. But the situation called for a tender and kind embrace. It would be hard to carry out particular for his case, and would probably be better if this child was passed along to someone else to fix. Someone more acquainted with nurturing skills.

"Loosened up a bit. Take a break for five minutes.. take some of that gear off and just— stop being so moody." Jason exclaimed, removing that transferring energy of concern that coursed through his palms and hopefully into the little boy's mind.

The cape swathed around him, was then slowly removed and dangled in his wavering grasp. Without any formal permission, Jason took the yellow and black hooded cloth from the boy, and folded it in a manner not closely resembling neatness. Contrary to his usual hot headed characteristics, Damian did not offer a rebuttal and simple let the process happen.

"Everything else can go too." Jason stated with a drip of firmness.

"I just gave you my cape." Damian huffed in a way that signaled he felt he was adequate to stay the way he was. The man proceeds to unbuckle his belt and strip his palms of his gloves. He was relaying a sense of openness and in a way made himself venerable. Damian gets the hint and repeats the process displayed before him, but not without giving a dry sigh.

He hands the man his gloves, cautiously preserving his hidden scars. After this he goes to unbuckle his belt when he does something suddenly clicks within him.

The bag. The one that clung to the side of his belt, it still remained. How could that have slipped from his mind? It was the main reason he ventured out so late in the night. To dispose of the small black bag so no one would uncover it.

Jason probably would not have noticed it or left himself allowing it to go unnoticed, if it wasn't for Damian eyes giving it such an audience. It looked rather unnecessary to dwell on something minuscule such as a bag of unknown origin, but the kids mistakes spewed out like a broken sink.

"What's with the bag? You got some goodies you wanna share?" Jason asked in his low raspy manner while carrying a lightheartedness to it.

Damian was baffled and responded as if he was offended by the ex-Robin, "I would rather keep that information to myself."

His brows knotted and his lips angled towards his chin. The belt was quickly brought up to his bosom, and the bag dangling was snatched up in his arms as well.

The cool royal oculars of the man bore into the boy, studying him and his mysterious garbage bag.

"Whatever you're tryna hide, it probably isn't that bad."

Energy drained from his body as he resided in his disturbed stance. A small lump traveled down his white throat as his gulped added some moisture to his anxiously dry insides.

His host shook his head as he placed his hands on his hips. "If it has anything to do with your good old dad," Jason spoke motioning one hand up to his mouth," My lips are sealed."

A pondering session filled with silence passed in the seconds following. The boy finally answered. "Don't muse on it too much, it's... exclusive for the time being.."

"That little bag is _exclusive_? Imma assume you _are_ keeping secrets from him." The man's eyes grinned in his direction.

"I bet whatever you have would get you in a good amount of trouble."

Damian grumbled under his breath. Temptation to retort overtook him, "This tiny thing would do no such thing."

"Then you wouldn't mind if I took a look." The counter argument was abruptly served.

"It's just garbage, it's nothing meaningful." Damian yapped. The answer caused Jason to fold his arms questionably.

"What are you doing running around with trash tied to your waist? That's ah, that's pretty weird."

"I have my reasons..." Damian muttered closing his eyes. He could feel his face becoming clammy like he was placed within an oven in the process of heating up. Lying was usually an easy task to accomplish so he should not be experiencing the nostalgia of pressuring anxiety. But his mind was so clouded and maladjusted it was difficult to keep up.

"I hope you have a good reason then. People don't carry garbage with them just for the sake of carrying garbage. What are you hiding?"

"Drop it Todd." Damian growled, mentality begging for him to hop to another topic; his spirit grew increasingly uncomfortable with the subject matter.

"Well damn kid. What's your problem? You're still tense, shake some of that.. eh.. shake the attitude off." Jason voiced. He sensed ambivalent emotions sprouting out from the boy, his body language, his actual language, it was unbalanced and possibly fearful of something.

"Why don't you take a seat on..." He examined the room swiftly for some furniture for the boy to rest. Sadly there wasn't much pulled out in that particular room," my bed. You can sit on my bed. Maybe get comfortable or something."

"The offer is generous, but I'm fine where I am." Said the child as the gears unlocked a bit. Jason lips straightened to express a countenance running thin of its patience. If he was being honest to himself, the situation was beyond spilling over a gallon of awkwardness onto the floor. The circumstances that conjoined their once separated agendas was spectacular slim but things seem to work in superstitious ways. Jason was indeed trying a considerable amount to console the broken robin and it was hard nonetheless.

He was reluctant to do everything asked of him and Jason wasn't one apt to untwine that instinct within him. So instead of continuous protest, he leaves his bedroom brushing past the kid calmly.

It wasn't an act intentionally made to provoke Damian or sway him with reverse psychology of some sorts. Jason simple moved because there wasn't much to exchange with him anymore. The kid was adamant to remain silent but he could see the slight trembling from him. It was a unusual sight that stumped him, for he was unable to decipher the boy's conflicting messages.

Jason approaches his dim lit kitchen natural drawing light from the fridge when he opens it up. He was expecting to find a couple of alcoholic beverages huddled against each other but the interior was barren with very little to quench his thirst. There was however, a carton of orange juice that was reasonably full, so he grabs it and begins an important process.

The drink is poured into a cup that then follows him back to our initial destination, he grabs a spare fold up chair to join the ride. Jason peers into the room expecting to see Damian in the same stance he was in when he left, or nothing, implying that he had left without a proper farewell. But the boy did none of those things and was instead, as asked, sitting on the second robin's bed. He was silent and his eyes rolled onto the floor resting beneath his feet. His bare hands settled on the bag on top of his lap, they were chilled as if he had stuck his hands in a pile of snow. Jason artlessly wanted to learned the depth of his despair. His pale exterior, the colorless look in his eyes, it all looked so out of place. But he still couldn't understand the source of the problem. Perhaps the kid was that skilled at masking his faults regardless of his fragile state, or maybe conflict was that inconspicuous.

So he allowed it. He allowed everything the boy did trying not to have second thoughts about it. Jason knew this child was seriously troubled at the moment, no matter how much of a stoic unfeeling facade he took. Hopefully levitating some of this pressure would get him to talk.

  
He didn't necessarily like the boy to a particular extent, but something in him reflected and bounced back at Jason in a reminiscent way; he could see little bits and pieces of himself in Damian's aura. That alone allowed Jason to have feelings of concern.

Jason unfolds the chair and proceeds to sit on it backwards, his legs straddled to the sides. "Couple of Black Mask lackeys were murdered last night. I think that's what caused them to recover the artillery ahead of schedule."

The small brute experienced a sharp slash in his words when he went to muster up a response. There was a pause.

And then he spoke as he remembered the dreadful encounter that unfolded that night. The shades of red that clouded his vision, the soaked hoodie wrapped around his body, the rushing lustful feeling rumbling within him. That feeling he hated but was too feeble to overcome, the woman he had lucid visions of. It wouldn't let up or let him breathe without tugging compunction burning his soul. "Unfortunate.. but what importance did they have overall?"

"Not sure, but it caused them to get pretty spooked." Jason let out a light chuckle before taking a sip from the glass, slugging down the bright orange fluid. He took a glance at the boy and spotted the guilt ridden expression crawling into his skin.

"You okay?"

"I'm dandy."

"You look guilty." Jason pointed out causing the boy's face to squirm in reaction.

"And what brought you to that conclusion?" Damian cracked in a defensive manner. His frame became tense and locked up but not as much as he was before.

"So why'd you do it?" Jason simply asked, skipping right over the boy's original question.

"Do what?" Damian replied bitterly.

"Get rid of those guys?"

"I have no recollections of your accusations." Damian responded quickly as he lied through his teeth. It wasn't an action he was joyous about. But, the cornered sensation was overwhelming as if he was an animal being pushed into a cage. It was a defensive mechanism that flowed out natural in this kind of situation.

"If you think I'm that stupid, your ego is bigger than you think. I can see it in your face, clear as day." Jason replies and tilts the cup in the boy's direction to show his anticipation.

"Are you accusing me of something as drastic as—...?"

"You did." Jason confirmed with a shrivel of surprise but deep down he knew the boy was capable of it regardless of his father's implementations. Damian grumbled to himself and gave in. He began to confess relieving himself of the building up lies.

"They were trying to attack me... and.. I was simply defending myself.. I may have gotten carried away..." his statement dribbled into a low whisper as he anxiously twiddled his thumbs.

Jason let out a tired sigh before attempting to bandage up his heavy mistake. " You did cause me some problems but I'll think of something to fix it," he stated honestly, " but I..understand it was a mistake. A big mistake, but still, a mistake."

"But—that's not the point!" Damian yelled as if he had a self squabble, "I-I shouldn't have done that.. I.. got ahead of myself..!"

"There you go again, working yourself up. Calm down." Jason prompted as he watched the boy's expression change from a gray dryness to shaken up rosiness. It was sad to see the poor kid so flustered like this.

"Look, what you did is in the past. I know it's not the best thing ever, but there's nothing you can do to change it now. Just learn from your mistakes."

"I simply can't sum that up to _just a mistake._ My intuition was clouded and I-I failed to properly analyze the situation!" Damian stuttered beginning to gurgle his sentences.

"You can't comprehend how much of a fool I've made of myself in his eyes."

Jason's eyebrows inclined towards his nose, "Your dad?"  
He inquired and then took a deep breath,  
"Don't beat yourself up so much to please him. It's definitely not worth your sanity to kiss his ass. I understand that you want to be a better.. hero or whatever you're trying to be, and I respect your decisions with not killing people. If you want to do that, then that's cool too. But don't go above and beyond for him if he's only giving you peanuts."

"I realize that... but... I can't take a easier route and blame this on my father. _It's my fault_ , and I need to take responsibility for them." Damian shivered as he placed a hand on his forehead.

"But you're going overboard with this thing you're tryna accomplish. Seems like the things you're trying to do on your own isn't working. You need to find someone to talk to." Jason offered up his advice trying to teeter away with any lecturing tones.

"I just have not been feeling the best lately and I keep... I keep messing up. I deter everything—and I want to stop.... that's all. I do not need an extra being to help me reconcile." Damian replied letting his eyes drift around the room sluggishly as he removes his arm. It ends up to his side on the red cushioning, exposing the bag. Even if his voice communicated an alternative message his body language proved he was becoming more comfortable with the Red Hood.

"I mean if you say so. But, you don't look in the right mindset to swing back home."

Damian glares and looks off into the distance in disapprove but doesn't verbally protest. From the raspy welcome, a thirst overcomes his mouth like a marble fountain statue, a thirst for redemption.

"So you're proposing that I remain in your home for the night." Damian followed up.

Jason lays dish the empty glass that was previously filled with citrus on the table sitting besides him, "Yeah, does it look like I'm doing anything special?"

"I'll take you up on your offer..." he mumbled in a way that made his eyelids drag down his cheeks even more.

"I don't need much to sleep on the floor." Damian continued verifiably.

"No, you can use the bed." He bewildered the child instantly with the unanticipated offer. The festering concerns in the man drove him to carry out out of character like acts.

"I don't wish to interrupt your routine..."

"Don't think of it like that, it's not a huge deal. I'm doing you a favor."

Damian looked up confused and lost in his overwhelming regret. His eyes glossed over and swelled like balloons in a wild way that expressed multiple colors at once.

"Rest, you need it more than I do. If you have any trouble, I'll be in the next room." Jason roughly concludes before gathering up the unnecessary items brought into the room with him. Before vanishing out the room that was rightfully his, he settled in the door way giving the boy an expression of uneasiness yet it possessed a tender quality to it, as if to show a deep source of buried affection unclear to the dirt and debris girding it. The owner let a light huff through his nose before uttering his indulgence to the ghostly child.

"Your face doesn't look like you got what I said, but I'm being serious. Kick back a bit and relax. Use this time to do whatever you need to calm down— just don't broke anything."

Damian nods in the slightest way that was rarely noticed by fast glancing eyes. But Jason proceeds, flicks off the light and closes the door behind him. Not as if he wasn't already surrounded by this itchy feeling crawling in between his muscle fibers and organs, but the darkness was quick to greet him. There he was, alone with the burning glow of the moon stroking the glass windows incasing the walls.

A damp hand slides down to the bottom of his legs as he grabs the red laces and begins to undo them. It wasn't like he was going to leave now, because a display of boorish behavior after a warm invitation would surely stick to the walls of his consciousness. It was a display of compassion that sparkled to life so sparingly like a blue moon that dancing on and off stage. So he could be selfish, just this once, and suckle up the sugary honey draping down to him. It was a decision that evidently left his mind a bit more tattered but less than deserting Jason's kind offer.

It was awkward the whole way through, but Damian managed to remove his tight knee high boots. He felt like someone was watching him preform every movement no matter how undersized it was. The exposure of skin to himself, only seen by himself, was accompanied by a fabricated audience. Smirks and laughs from transparent shells of his classmates clustered in his head filling him up with frustrating panic.

It's just a pair of shoes. But everything meant so much more nowadays.

He grew hot in his movement as he maneuvered to get comfortable on the man's bed. This feeling of not belonging and intrusion tapped against the tough wall of his skull. It wasn't his place to settle in someone else's bed, but he was asked to. And at this point in time the boy was softer with his tolerance and obliged, keeping his inner opinions to himself.

He was made to please, so maybe he could do something right for once.

~~~

  
It had been quite some time into the night, almost long enough to see the sun begin its climb back to the peek in the sky. The dark droplets of blue hovering above faded into a lighter consistency, and it wrapped around the glass windows.

Jason's eyes drifted down towards the sleeping form nesting in his bed. As if things couldn't get any more unusual, the kid was curled in such a exposed manner. The form of the child most likely originally laid out on his back with a stiff alertness. But he had moved carelessly to his side, facing the blue shining windows. His top leg was slightly pushed out while the other stayed loosely straightened against the sheets. If he could sum this up into one word he would consider the boy as defenseless. The impotence of his position was so apparent and odd.

Jason peered down at the foot of the bed; the Damian's multi laced boots leaned against each other and an anomaly stood out to him. There it was, peeking into view from under the bed frame. That small black trash bag from earlier that night.

It didn't take long for him to take advantage of the situation and scoop up the secretive bag to examine. It had a foul but light scent to it. Something that stirred up questions fairly quickly. But knowing Damian, carrying something with a deathly scent wasn't unpredictable. However, in his current effete state, it was sending mixed messages.

With little hesitation, the man unknotted the bag to revive the content hidden so anxiously by the tiny bird. His mouth lowered once his sight dropped down into the bag in his hands. He wasn't angry, but confused and somewhat disgusted. There were countless rolls of gauze and bandages covered in brittle brown spots. Some of these spots even kept traces of profound red that appeared youthful and lively. The dark dim colors dances like a plague, leaving no white strip left untouched by blood stains.

Now you as the read know very well what is being shown, but the worse is not always the first conclusion to jump to. Everyone was made aware of his Damian's misdeeds and the punishment that followed afterwards. Perhaps the boy had gotten into battles unknown to his peers and wanted to keep this knowledge hidden. It was plausible to see the child circumventing his father's direct orders to lay down the cap and focus on productive ways to function in society.

A lousy sigh erupted from Jason's mouth as he took another look at the sleeping child. His hands worked on tying the bag up but he was unsure if this treasure should be discarded or returned to its owner.

A decision was made that when the child awake, they would have a conversation. A real one this time. Or at least if he could get him to talk openly. As priorly stated, Jason wasn't much to swim in a pool of emotions with someone else, but he had become aware of the reoccurring hints of distress showering this child. There were things that had happened before,things he'd rather refrain from speaking about, things he could have stopped if he acted accordingly in time. It's the little things that kill faster because they're so small, you can barely see them in time. He could be wrong about the pessimistic assumptions he had about Damian, but it wouldn't hurt to ask if anything was troubling him.


	13. Short Goodbyes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Short chapter with Damian and Jason

There wasn't much wait time in between transitions. As always, his eyelids carried a sorrowful heaviness to them when they painfully lifted up to reveal his surroundings. Initial spots of blurriness faded away into the cooly lit bedroom, remembering his commitment to rest. His fingers scratched at the sheets before his entire body tossed over to its opposite side. This type of stimulant, to force his blood to pump and his mind to awake seemed always in vain. Although there was very little desire to accomplish this task to begin with. 

His eyes, once rolled to the back of his head, reposition themselves tiredly in the middle of his soulless spheres. The tilting of his chin towards the ceiling gave the illusion he was levitating; he was only sitting up, in a swift and mistakenly relaxed fashion. The strands sprouting out of his head were not as feistily stuck up in ever which direction like previous situations.

"Did you sleep okay?"

The boy's drained gaze shoots up automatically at the source. A precious site is there to greet him and the security of it oils his muscles. He wants to yawn but something inside him refused to trigger that reaction. It was as if he had broken parts inside of his lungs that had been left unfixed for years.

"I slept fine." Damian breathed as his eyes came into contact with the pair on the opposition of the messy red sheets wrapped around his aging attire.

"Do you need anything?" The man asked genuinely but it only caused the boy to stiffen in his shell.

"Why do you care so much?" The boy groggily responded with tired questioning eyes.

"Gee, I dunno, maybe because you look like complete garbage. Now what's gotten you all messed up?" Jason protested with immense exaggeration. He pulled a sunken display out of the boy.

"I don't feel well.." he softy said letting his eyes drift towards the sheets where his fingers ached.

Jason put an arm on his side, "like you're sick or something?"

"No.. I'm..." the energy it took for the boy to complete his thought was flowing profusely. Friction between the plates of his eyebrows translated his distress. "I..I don't feel good."

The boy's hand swept across his forehead and his eyes shook with nerves planted in his eyelids.

"It would be nice if you elaborated," Jason calmly spoke but encouraged him to continue. Damian appeared as if a heavy load was slowly trickling off his back with every syllable flying out his mouth.

"I'm lost.."

"Uh.."

The child's face lit up in enteral confusion and his teeth clinched," I wouldn't expect you to understand."

Jason almost laughed but the situation didn't require that type of humor at this type of time in the morning.

"Take your time." Was what he said instead of indulging the kid with his churlishness.

A choked voice responded hesitantly and so frightened that it made the man second guess all of his decisions. "I-I... I'm not remotely sure of.. what to say.."

He sighed from the continuous cycling of childish scampering around questions and circumventing his answers. It was getting old and tested his patience, stretching it more and more. But he was aware that majority of this wasn't the kids fault. It was simple his way of trying to deal with it all.

"It's okay."

The boy's hand rose and stroked the bridge of nose incurring a lot of thought. "Is it.. Is it alright, if I wished not to speak about this?"

Jason mouth lay slightly ajar and his eyes scanned the room, "I would say yeah, but right now I don't think that's a good idea. It's okay to talk to me; as much as it seems like it isn't, it is."

In much reluctance, he frowned at this," but you're not forcing me to confess anything if I'm not mistaken?"

A familiar exhale brushed out of Jason's nostrils and he rolled his eyes miserably, "I guess I'm not, but I'm not letting you leave until you fess up."

A lively amount of flaunted energy showed in the quick retort of the boy's head and the folding of his arms," well then I guess I'm going to be here for a while then." His legs kicked up closer to his body and his head tilted towards window.

"Why do you have to be such a brat?" Jason said as his hand slid down his forehead.

The surge of energy quickly vanished, and Damian's pupils once again bounced below him.

"Just go away," he whispered, his body quietly inching closer towards the bedside window.

Jason looked up and watched how frequently the boy's attitude changed. There was a distressed fluidness to it as if expressing itself like a flowing river; an unpredictable changing of seasons. The stillness and thoughtfulness of spring, flowing into the scorching ripples of the summer sun that gets swallowed up by the spices of the crunching autumn leaves, but everything seemed to fall into the cold distant numbing feeling of the winter snow. The frozen tears covering up the fresh green strokes of grass, eating away at the lushest leaves of the trees leaving them naked and shivering. It was confusing to witness such a complex young boy suddenly dissipates into those cold crystals of ice with vestiges of dirt. That unordinary benumbed feeling of pride he had being quickly zapped away.

Damian was moody, he was a maturing child after all; but, the growing exposure to him unveiled a bitter realization. He was becoming more inclined to help instead of being a sideline statistic watching the world fall around him.

"I know you probably feel alone right now, like no one has your back, like no one understands what you're going through, and no one would care to listen. But I understand, and If I don't understand then let me find some way to understand," Jason voiced, "please, let me help you."

He got a reaction out of him and the boy slowly turned around. There was a soft parting of melted snow on his cheeks and under the white rims of his eyes. And with that extraordinary expression of emotion, everything in the world seemed possible.

A sequence of heightened breaths levitated from the boy's mouth; he quickly buried his saddened face into the small palms of his hands, and as if a sudden death in the family occurred, a low sound of mild sobs were captured in his grasp.

After a moment of secreting pain, Damian wiped some of the fallen tears from his face with his hidden arm. "Sometimes I harbor these negative emotions," he began. Jason only listened carefully.

"And then... I no longer feel any entitlement to anything. I try to play my part, and find some way to show my usefulness. Nothing works.." a sniffle came from his nose before a short gulp followed.

"I suppose I'm not the easiest piece to fit into this puzzle. I'm not the best choice when it comes to partners. I'm not something people fancy to be around. I'm not easy to stomach. I'm not the son a father would ask for. I'm not good enough.."

Jason's blue eyes were struck with fascination but his turned up eyebrows relayed a strong bemusement. There was a short cease of communication only combatted with the whimpers of the baby bird.

"You've said a lot about what you're not. What about the things you are?"

Damian bit his lip, "I... appreciate you trying convince me of what I'm not.."

Jason only grunted, unsure of what to respond with.

"I don't think my father ever truly liked me." Damian suddenly spoke shifting the direction of the conversation.

"More times than less I will always find him with an irascible attitude towards me. A-And... I can't fathom what I've been doing wrong... maybe... I... I have some idea of what I'm doing wrong, and I find it impossible to correct... I wanna stop..."

"Didn't I tell you already?" Jason cut the boy off for a second, "don't go tryna please that ass hole, it'll get you no where."

The man grabbed ahold of the boy by his arms and looked desperately into his pinked eyes, "Is this what's gotten you like this? Did he do something to you?"

"No.. no, my father hasn't done anything to me. He's not the problem."

"Maybe he didn't say anything bluntly cruel.. come on, he's the one that has you in this head space. You're expecting too much out of yourself. It's okay to dial it back."

Damian took a breath, " I wanted to do some good for a change. I challenged myself to meet standards that were fairly simple. An axiom that wasn't out of the ordinary for a child of my stature. And every time I approached that challenge... I-I couldn't complete it successfully... I couldn't do it... I can't!"

The boy slammed his arms against the bedding angrily and a warm hand slid on top of his in response. A reassuring expression greeted his anguished countenance.

"Well I have a challenge for you then. I want you to stop being so hard on yourself. I don't know what he has you thinking about yourself, but I want you to stop taking everyone's bull shit. It just seems like you're trying too hard for a world that wants to hold you back. So stop doing this to yourself. That's the only thing I want from you." The firmness in his voice carried itself promptly.

The boy looked up, his lips bitter and his eyelids falling down in the most saddening fashion. He only sniffled and gave a soft nod.

"Okay. That's good." Jason smiled internally before removing his hand. He took a quick glance around the room before returning his gaze towards the broken boy.

"You've been in those clothes for a while." The broken silence caused the boy to look down at himself.

"I suppose I have.."

  
He didn't ask much of him, just enough to get him to clean himself. Jason allowed him to use his shower and washed his discarded uniform before he touched the bedding. The shower hummed in the other room and the washer machine murmured along with it.

Some time had passed and there was a sudden stop from the bathroom. The washer machine continued to rattle without its noise making companion.

"I have some old clothes. They're probably bigger than you, but it's better than nothing." Jason called out as he approached the white lit crevices of the door.

A zephyr of nothingness carried from the from the outskirts of the bathroom. "Kid. You okay in there?"

No response.

He rapped a hand against the door.

"I'm okay." Was what the soft fumbling of words came out to be. It was quite unbelievable for Jason to take his reassurance at face value.

"What are you doing in there?"

There wasn't an immediate response like he had hoped, and it only stirred up more of his suspension.

"I'm waiting."

"Waiting for what?" Jason immediately countered.

"My clothes."

Flustered surprise flushed his face as he licked his lips. "I just said I have clothes for you. What do you need to hide out in the bathroom for??"

"I want to. Now quit pestering me. I just need some alone time before I begin my day.."

 

Jason sighed but accepted the boy's request.


	14. Welcome Home

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Drop down

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Really sorry for the wait ;-;

 

"Where were you."

The boy looked stubbornly in the opposite direction of his father. The sternness in his voice pierce the air that carried through the open window.

"Out." Damian mumbled with a distastefulness in his mouth. A hand slide up to his eyes where he discarded the domino mask from his face; there lay a garden of reddish circles around his eyes. His father took little time to bombard him with more questions.

"Where."

"Just out. Why does it matter?" Damian spat in the direction of the older man. He always found a way of heating up to protect himself. He felt so sick inside to be standing face to face with his father in such a fashion again. To be against odds with his oppressor, the same man that had locked both his physical and spiritual form away.

  
His father, dressed in a simple white wife beater and a pair of sweat pants, starred angrily at his child, "Why does it matter? Because I'm your father Damian, and you keep trying to pull these stunts. It's not cute, nor is it funny."

"I'm not trying to be funny, I'm tying to get my life back!" Damian yelled. His eyes nevertheless returned towards the ground, "I deserve to be Robin!"

"You don't deserve anything," Bruce's vision narrowed as it bore into his son with that cold distant berating look. The same look that made the boy's insides squirm, the same look that caused him to believe the bickering words from his classmates, the same look that made him feel like an utter mistake.

"We made a deal and you keep fighting that decision, again and again. You want me to give you your suit back and then you go and run off again. You have no supervision, and right now you're at the peek of being a liability. I can't have you running off by yourself anymore." Bruce growled with a sourness rolling into his pupils.

It was tiring, truly tiring, to be the source of infinite enkindled pandemonium within his home. His father never seemed to find anything pleasant to say about his only blood begotten son. But was that his fault? The recipes were brought to the table, everyone could see how true each and every one of these statements were. The slow cooling mending that Jason had attempted was becoming obsolete.

Damian insisted on protesting his rights in hopes that he would receive some respect, "But I can handle myself! I'm not doing anything wrong, I'm following your rules, I'm doing what I'm supposed to be doing."

"The last time you were left alone, you killed a man Damian. You're too hot right now, you can't keep doing this." The father's scolding brought the boy to his silent knees.

He's right you know..

"And before you make up any other lies, I know you've been sneaking out before this." Bruce added with a powerful tenacity.

"You got me. Okay? Yes, I've been sneaking out, but that's only because you're being stubborn." Damian added abruptly. Silly children never learn what their place is. Sometimes you have to understand when to give up.

His father's face lit up with untamed frustration and could be visibly seen by the lines surging out of his forehead, "How many time do I have to repeat myself? We've been over this so many times and I still have to say it again. When are you going to get this through your head Damian? Stop. Being. Defiant. Take that suit off, I don't want to see you wearing it again. I already have a lot to deal with as is. I ask you generously to follow my instructions, and you know what you go a do? Murder someone. It doesn't matter if they were working for Black Skull, it wouldn't have mattered if it was the Joker! We're not going to stoop down to their level. You can not keep doing this, I don't want to constantly have this conversation.—No I don't want to have this conversation ever again."

The room grew unsettlingly quiet as the fireplace flickered back and forth. A cowardice awakening bubbled into the boy's quivering eyes. He spoke with a weary light quality.

"I'm sorry father." But such worthless words were nothing to him.

"Are you? Because you don't act like it. You never act like it. I can't trust you Damian, you're too detrimental."

Damian felt a light boldness crawl out of his throat, "So are you saying it would be better if I was gone?"

Bruce seemed to disregard the festering despair fixed in the bottom of his voice,"I want your attitude gone."

"It's not an attitude, it's a personality." The boy carelessly cried. Why did he feel so ashamed to talk to his father properly? Why didn't anything seem to work for him?

Bruce let out a tempered breath, "Once again you're proving how difficult you are. You're acting like everything is peachy. It's not Damian, and it's because of you. You've stirred up a lot of problems lately, so cool it."

"These wouldn't be probl—" But the boy was suddenly cut off by his father.

"No excuses, just fix it." It was a quick retort and it served its purpose. It was done, everything was over. There was no If ands or buts about it, his father's word was final. That's how he wanted it to be; to be a precious benevolent son he always dreamed of being. So there was no retaliation needed to combat the smoking punishment of his father.

Just shut up and be quiet.

His lips tightened as he watched his father trail out of his door.

Forget it.

Forget everything.

He didn't want it anymore.

It was no longer worth the hassle. Nothing was worth this much.

He didn't want to be robin anymore. He didn't want to fight, he didn't want to talk, he didn't want to eat, he didn't want to be bothered by anyone or any of the controversial topics floating around Gotham.

Eternal solitude would serve a greater purpose. Just a pitch black head space to drift far away from existence.

He was trying. He was trying his hardest to play his part, and nothing seemed to click. Well, maybe it was time for him to try harder. He just needed to perform to a T and eventually, if he was lucky, fade completely into the background unless death got to him first.

There it was again, that empty feeling where his rage was supposed to rush into. Why didn't he kick and scream and yell and fight? Why didn't he intervene and try to argue his desires? Maybe that side of him was liquidated from the devastating despair brought upon him.

Something was slowly consuming his insides. He changes his clothes,tosses the uniform to the side, and showers bitterly. Once dried, he drapes a long sleeve shirt over his tank top.

The day was still somewhat young, and the sun was shinning even with its baked shades of orange. But, everything was over for him. Jason tried his best to console him and for a limited time it had began to work and destroy some of his anxieties and doubts. It made him feel like someone actually thought he mattered. But when the man dropped him off near the manor, that dark grim atmosphere had settled in again. And then it happened. His father caught him sneaking through his bedroom window back into the house. And that's when everything unfolded.

He wanted to cut so badly and it was truly sad because of the progress he had made in steering away from it. It was quite small but nonetheless a step in the right direction. As if he was experiencing a nauseous feeling of withdrawal, he carried himself to his belt. The belt with his tools, and more specific the belt with his deeply needed blades.

He grabbed the contraption from its resting place and scurried into the bathroom. What he would do now would defeat the entire purpose of showering to the fullest. But, it simply didn't matter anymore.

The boy locked the bathroom door causing it to emit a light click. He slid into the tub with the blade and drew the curtains so that none of his figure was exposed to the entrance. There was a sharp fresh whip of the batarang as he opened it swiftly. The smell of the metal was clean and a sense of sweet danger permeated the air. His sleeves began to be rolled up showcasing the arrangement of grotesque scars and scratches he had collected during the passing months. What a diverse and well crafted display he had wrapping around every hair on his forearm. Some of them were calculated, and straight enough to gain well deserved applause for his craftsmanship. Others were ridged and embarrassingly sloppy. But regardless of the status of each one, they all worked perfectly together to mock and torment him yet still found ways to comfort and sympathize with him.

He places the blade along the thin flesh of his forearm, brushing against overlapping aging scars that had already claimed their places. Instead of removing it he sinks the metal into the exposed organ, ripping apart the little cleanliness he had left. The wound sobs out, causing blood by the globs to trail down his skin towards the bottom of the tube. He repeats this process on his other arm and watches the two cry together as if they were long lost twin, searching for each other. As the scarlet tears crawl towards the drain, he closes his eyes in a moment of rest.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you have anything you want to tell me, feel free to comment. <3  
> Thank you all


	15. Best Student

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rock Bottom

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm going to try to upload once a week if I have time.
> 
> Also I peeped that you guys are having a whole intellectual conversation in the comments XD. It's so nice to see everyone interacting and enjoying themselves <3 <3

"Mister Wayne, I do have to say, your son has expressed excellent behavior in the past couple of weeks and we are glad to notify you that his restrictions have been lifted." The voice or the principle was chipper and consumed the low buzzing air. The small group was isolated from the majority of faculty and students swarming around the school, due to a small closed off inclosure known as this man's office.

It was a tidy little office that closely resembled the adorability of Barbie accessories. Surely the academy's budget was plentiful enough to endow one of their headman an area more spacious to work within. From the small fan that rotated along the horizontal of the wooden surface below it, softly buzzing and humming an artificial toon, to the stacks of paper work pushed off to the side deadly close to the edge of desk, it fit imperfectly but just enough to look presentable in the area provided.

  
Damian hadn't noticed just how diminutive the room was until now. Maybe his head had drifted so far off of his strict path that he was lost in the analytics of trivial things. There was no longer those spurts of dull trinkets to occupy his mind and slowly pull him away from that impeding storm just above his horizon. The boy's eyes batted making his emotionless pupils skip and his lips helped emphasize the uncaring feeling weighing down his heart. With this, his skin almost appeared with grayish tints. His posture in the lightly padded chair on the opposing side of his non blood superior was firm and displayed the elegance he still outwardly expressed dispute his tendency of self pity and melancholy behavior. His chin balanced unreal ego which restricted him from looking at the ground. It was that false external stance of bitter confidence and power that raised his peers expectations of him along with the lingering invidious idealizations that sprouted out of their envious bosoms.

His hands lay still on his lap as they had grew accustomed to the homey surrounding made up of the engrossing sleeves of his turtlenecks. His nails barely snuck out of their hiding spot and remained tucked away in the girding cloth. If only his head could sink into his collar as easily as his hands did with his sleeves. But, he never had things go his way.

 

People were beginning to become suspicious— well maybe that isn't a good word, or maybe it is. But he was certainly becoming more questionable and odd looking. The normality of his appearance wasn't that at all. He looked out of place which only drew more and more eyes cruising in his direction. The rotting smell of his reputation was repulsive yet, a valuable sacrifice to keep his darkness secrets confidential.

His eyes adjusted to look in the direction of the middle aged man who was clearly paying him little attention. He was better off like he was in their previous meeting.

Out of sight and out of mind.

Bruce, the man sitting next to his son, carried that same similarity to the child. The statue of wealth and confidence, that unlike his son, didn't appear cold and off putting, but charismatic and smoothly pleasant. The side of his father that was so fraudulent yet always executed with a perfection that soothed an encountering audience; that alluring dialect that gave him the ability to shaft any naive man or woman. Sometimes the twinkle in his speech made the boy feel sick because of the instantaneous switch to apathy and scornfulness that he commonly found castigating him.

"Excellent, I'm glad we could work things out accordingly."

Hearing his father's voice reminded him of his own negligence to speak. He hadn't opened his mouth to say anything for a decent amount of time. Now this wasn't a considerable amount of time such as piling days into weeks but in comparison to his normal interactions with people, it truly showed the disconnect between himself and the crushing light everyone else had. The loneliness of it was comforting yet concerning at intertwining times. To know he was finally where he belonged, away from everyone else. No longer a factor to try and work out of an equation, no longer a distraction. Well he still was these things, because he was still here, but he was delighted he could fulfill his father's wishes for the first time.

Bruce hadn't spoken to him, as in actually pleasantly conversed with his son since he ended those men in the alley. He continued to be looked past and pushed to the side. It stung as if he was beset by tiny insects hiding in his shirt. It was something that strung along with his broken soul, but a father with worn out empty hands to love and embrace his youngest child was just something he deserved.

As the two men continued their status update on the boy, he faded into the background in spite of being the main subject of the conversation. So his eyes remained open and lifeless and stared through... he stared through nothing, there was nothing worth describing. Imagine everything fading into a gradient of gray and only the voices of his father and the principle stayed recognizable.

 _"As always, Damian is excelling in all of his classes. His grades remain the highest that we've ever seen. And combining that with the little complaints we've heard recently, I have to say, your son is in a direction for great things."_ The man's voice was a normal teacher to parent voice and wasn't important. Damian was fixated on his father.

"Yes, Damian has been showing promising signs. I think he's gotten past his difficulty adjusting here." The deluding continued to pour out of his father's deceiving lips. Why? Why was he speaking for him. His son was completely capable of expressing his own feelings and explaining his own improvements— If you can refer to his predicament as improvement.

Was his father that oblivious, that much in denial to sum up things to just being around foreign entanglements? Or maybe he just didn't care. Or maybe, just maybe, by the tiniest slither of luck, the boy was capable of deceiving everyone with his twisted master mind like facade.

"We couldn't ask for more," the man smiled with satisfaction as his hands folded on his desk, "I never intended to be hard on your son, he seems like a good kid. I'm going to have to agree with you on the notion that he's just getting used to the other students. To my knowledge he's been previously homed schooled?"

"Yes, he hasn't left our home often before our transition to a private school, and we felt as if he'd get better experience in the world if he was exposed to other children his age."

The meeting was rather quick in itself but dragged on because of how little Damian actually contributed. His father shook hands with his principles and the two exited the office. The warm stiff smile dwindled off his face when the two completely left the small room. Bruce's eyes weren't berating him silently but instead looked plain and maybe a little bit bored if you counted the lowness to his eyelids. A _well, on to the next thing, kind of expression._

"I'm picking you up after school. Meet me in the car as soon as you're dismissed." His father spoke, the once stunning in clover flavors swishing between his teeth and his gums drained out and became bland and uninterested.

The boy wasn't sure if he was supposed to reply in compliance or spit some vile message of pent up anguished aggression. So he decided to give a short nod that caused his eyes to fade into the darkness. After this brief exchange, the two were on their way. There was no _have a good day at school, or I love you, or be safe, or have fun at work,_ or any sort of message that expressed a kinship between the two. They simple parted ways.

Damian's feet carried him through the hallway slowly before he turns around to get one last glimpse of his father. He was hoping for him to look back and give a warm fatherly smile before disappearing through the double doors. Instead, the child watched the distant formality of his back sweeping out of the halls in professional urgency.

It didn't take long for Damian to drag himself back into the class he was previously attending before his work was interrupted by a call down to the principals office. The relay of his history teacher to make his way down, was the reasoning behind the surprise meeting his father pieced together. He stands in the doorway to be greeted by those wicked frolicsomeness smirks and giggles of his classrooms. The oows and other childish noises jumped around the room and their eyes swayed with his movements.

"..Could you please enlighten me on the agenda today.. " A soft timidness carried through his question as he approached his teacher's desk. He was an older gentleman with little value in describing his other characteristics.

"Ah yes," he spoke as he leaned up from his rowing desk chair to fetch the boy a packet that was resting on a stack of other papers, presumably copies of the same packet. " We are working on a new project. You guys have about two weeks to finish it, give or take, so I suggest you don't wait until the last minute. But knowing you Mister Wayne, I wouldn't have to worry about that, unlike some of these other children."

Damian takes the paper out of the man's hand and tries to reply with something polite, but was too strung out to give the performance he wanted, "..all of the instructions are listed in this?"

"Yep. Oh- and I forgot to say this, but this is a group project and you will be working in pairs. Since you had to leave to go to the office, we had to give you who was left over." The man cooly said as his eyes sort of motioned to his new partner.

"..Who is the person I have to collaborate with?"

He gestures Damian over to a girl in a ordinary white polo and school skirt sitting by her lonesome with her fingers sloppily gliding across a page in their packet. Damian gives a quick thanks to his teacher and grabs his supplies before moving to sit in her area.

She was a funny looking person but only due to her perplexed facial expressions. As the boy seat down and gathered his materials she kept peeking her eyes up frantically and then quickly shooting them back at the paper. The girl had tawny skin that popped out with globs of gingerbread swirling in her button like eyes. Her hair was short, barely inching past her ears, and was a similar shade of black or the darkest shade of ebony he had ever seen.

Damian looked over at her, reluctant to say anything but held himself steady, a form of politeness was due.  
"I'm Dami—"

"I know who you are," she snapped in a high pitched shrill that was quite hushed," you don't have to introduce yourself."

Her hand slides onto a notebook on top of her desk and she pushes it to the side with her torso follow this motion. Damian watches her irritably as she slowly turned her back to him. The girl leans her head closer to herself to stay shielded from the wicked presence of him.

Nerves begin to build up in his system and he takes a long breath. " What's the topic you decided to research?"

He honestly didn't care what the requirements were to get a pleasing grade, he had no interest in discovering a subject of his own desire. Everything felt like a sluggish solution so why not just follow along with this girl and get a good grade. There's a dry answer that doesn't come immediately, " World War II."

"Everyone is doing World War II," her avoidance to specify what they were doing was beginning to drive the bird up a wall. Why couldn't she just corroborate with him?

"Hey. I was doing just fine before you came." She hissed giving him a quick side eye. Her pastry eyes no longer seemed as sweet and innocent as they once were. Damian frowns at this but catches himself before he releases some foul spirit out of his mouth.

Her eyes began to wander around the room and her head tilts back behind her whole form. They're searching for answers, as she stayed attentive to the bustling quiet giggles of a small group of four girls huddled in a corner of the classroom. She rotates her head back in Damian's direction and her face lights up with a sick bubbly expression. But the boy tries to pay her little mind and keeps his eyes on his own notes and paper.

"You better not ruin this project for me. I know what you do to people." She muttered under her breath but was clearly trying to get the boy's attention. His eyes roll up in her direction. He decides to bite the bait and entertain her. Besides, he had to be collaborative eventually if they were going to complete this project.

"I'm not.."

"Good." There was forceful doubtfulness in her voice.

"Did you come up with a topic?" Damian questioned with a sorry firmness again as his fingers clenched the bottom of his sleeves in his lap.

"Don't rush me." She huffs and her eyes turn back toward the laughter. Damian watches and chooses not to intervene. He knows what's going on but decides against all of his aggressive instincts.

"You wear long sleeve turtlenecks everyday to school. Even when it's hot outside." She pointed out and just as openly twiddled the pencil in her hand in his direction. Of all things, Damian wasn't going to entertain _**this**_ , and remains quiet. As if she got an instant kick out of his reaction, she continues her snaky taunting, "I heard it's because you cut yourself. You cut all over your arms."

She didn't say it in any means to drag anyone else's interest into their linear conversation but the mention alone was enough to unsettle Damian completely. There was a mood shift in the atmosphere.

"Apparently there's a picture of it. Do you do it to get attention?"

He didn't provide a response. But her head, it kept wandering behind her and then steering back towards him in anxious and kiddish anticipation. Her tenacious behavior didn't cease as she continued to talk, "What's the point of cutting yourself, its stupid. I don't understand why someone like you gets to play the victim all of a sudden."

There was a slight pause in her speech and a constipated mien electrified her movement. "Let me see them—Roll up your sleeves."

"—No!" Damian spat quickly in retaliation. The shock value caused his eyes to grow aggressively wide and his head whips up fiercely at her. He was honestly completely offended and nevertheless caught off guard. But he was a second too late to realize the confession that slipped out of his mouth.

The malice in her smile grew as she knew she struck a cord. The pencil in her hands slips out of her grasp as they began to wander in Damian's direction. "So you do hurt yourself. It's not all rumors."

"Keep your filthy hands away from me!" Damian scowled as he swatted at the girl in the midst of his maddened panic. He never swung his limbs to hit her but only moved them to send a message. Options are vanishing and it seems he is in an all losing battle with the world. He scoots away from her in an attempt to nonchalantly escape, but she's persistent, persistent with an unrelenting pressure of her peers riding on her shoulders.

The hand grabs a hold of his cloaked battered up wrist and the touch liquidated his pupils. The organ beating inside of his chest accelerates faster and faster. But he could feel it from her too. The shakiness in her breath as she continued to cling onto him, to the frantic wild eyes she darted at him. The thudding of her own heart seemed to palpitate in his body and the two hearts beat in a ill harmonious manner.

Damian quickly snatched his arm away from the girl and frowned immensely with anxious waves running up his spine. How he wished for this ignominious weakness to be removed from his once strong and fearless body.

They both appeared disturbed in their own fashion but bitter disgruntlement soon washed over the girls light brown face. An introvert blurt jumped from her maw and it tasted like tart, "You're such a freak."

"Say what you want, but don't touch me. Just... _don't touch me._ " He sighed with an icky fire to it. The girl complied despite all that had happened and returned to her own work and so did Damian. Although they were both partners, they worked as two separate entities with two different equations.

Eventually however, for some reason, they had drifted back towards each other. Her pestering continued to haunt him as he watched her turn around from time to time in a sort of consultation. She would go back to his self harm and then jump to just taunting him with her cowed voice. Damian could whiff the inferiority off of her but let her keep her dominance in the situation. He was unsure of what to do and the embarrassment of it all kept him confined in his silence.

Their teacher had instructed them to clean up since the bell was on its way to ringing and dismissing them. None of the children in his class had a lot accomplished supposedly because day was just a planning day, but Damian could hardly see that as an excuse to work. She never gave him a topic to specifically research but with an universal broad scope of what everyone was doing, he was able to devise a cohesive outline as well as an introductory paragraph for the essay that was apart of the project. He ripped out a couple of pages in his notebook and proceeded to hand them to the girl, who only had a couple of words and little doodles scattered around her own notebook.

"..Here," Damian voiced, his arm stretched out towards her with the little stack of papers.

"What's that?" She frowned as she packed her belongings up.

"The notes," He strongly said.

Her hand pushes the papers back towards him, "No, no, I don't want those. You keep them!"

Damian groaned with no words left in his diminished vocabulary to counter. He was drained of using so many words and found it annoying to hear himself speak. The constant chattering irked him dearly. He closes his eyes hoping for the the day to come to a close.

  
~~~

  
A dryness in his throats crawled up to his tongue as he manages to talk, " Would it be too much trouble if you informed me of.. the destination?" The murmurs caused cold blue eyes to peak at him through the rear view mirror. His action was caught however, he gave the boy little respect and chose not to respond.

Damian shrank in the back seat, both literally and mentally. His arms folded intensely signally his discomfort and his body rolled towards the open scenes the passenger window provided. Why did he even bother anymore? His father did not love him and was only carrying around dead weight to ease his own moral compass. Why was he still here..?

So he waits, he waits until their destination was reached.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Feel free to comment your thoughts. I love you guys so much and I hope your summer is going well. <3


	16. Status Update

Ard so this isn't even a real chapter sad to say. BUT, I just wanted to keep you guys updated on what's going on because you guys seem to be going crazy in the comments. At this point I have so many comments, it's gotten to the point where I can't respond to them all ToT. That's literally how much you guys support me and how ig, long I've been gone for. I would rather put that time writing the story but I do have all of your messages in my hearts. I read all of them!!!<3<3<3 it's hard for me to find the words to respond tho. And don't think that should make you stop commenting because I seriously love all of your comments, they are like candy to me. They make my day, seriously! 

 

So over the summer, I got thrashed into a lot of different stuff. I'm being forced into classes I don't really wanna take :/ and I got AP and all this othet stuff. And standardized test prep I'm forced to do and I barely have time to do the things I love ;-;. 

THIS DOES NOT MEAN BY ANY CIRCUMSTANCES THAT I HAVE GIVEN UP ON THIS STORY. I refuse to stop writing this story until I've written the final chapter! And who knows, I might write some stuff after that with like Damian and Jon and past coping and all that angst fun stuff. Or something. 

(I'll probably jump into my other story tho first. My friend is pretty patient about it. But it's gotta be the weirdest thing I've had to ponder about in my life. But she's my good friend ;-; a very very very weird, but good friend.)

But sadly, the story might progress a bit slow. But honestly, when it hits November, half of my problems will be gone by then and I'll have a lil more time to focus on ma babies (my stories) and ma fam squad (you guys). 

If I put myself on a schedule I'll update between omce a week or maybe once every 2 weeks. But that does mean content will be shorter but I don't wanna water it down for it to be longer.  
I honestly have no idea. But I would love to hear all of your thoughts on what I should do. Your opinion matters. 

And hey, since I'm not here constantly and you guys are looking for some dami angst. Try writing your own! I would honestly love to read what you guys come up with because you guys seem to have so many good ideas in the comments and it all just fascinates me!!! I can't always bring your ideas to life and even if I could, it probably wouldn't be 100% what you envisioned. So, if you've been nervous or shy to write it, don't be. I'll read it. Honest. You can send me what you wrote and I can read it for you, and if you want me to comment, I'll do that too. It's the least I can do for such amazing people as you all. 

But again, feel completely free to give me suggestions on what I should do, especially since school is like here like now >~<.

And another thing. About the repetition in my work. I'm not really sure :/ my bad if it sounds like I'm boring you guys with the same stuff. I just felt like depression doesn't really go away od quick and it's a looonngggg dark road that you can't just find some random exit in the next 5 miles down the road and pull off. Ig it's kinda like a motif in the literary sense, to keep hitting home on the idea that it lingers and stays with you Just to remind every with the theme of depression and self harm and suicide. I never really enjoyed sad stories as much as I wanted to because of the fact they never dove into the dark enough. I felt like the main theme was taking the backseat and probably 9/10s consumed by fluff and ships. But I don't really know the whole truth from just my perspective so if I honestly am repeating myself too much lemme know. But it would be great if you let me know how to fix it because I'll be in a rut for a long time tryna correct myself lol.XD


	17. Updates for November

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey y’all. I h

Hey y’all. I have returned!! You guys should expect to see updates between every 1 to 2 weeks so the most you’ll have to wait for an update is 14. But if you’d like to check back next Sunday then there might be an update. I’m going to try and aim for every week but if school gets too much imma have to aim to slide into the second week. But imma push myself to never miss that 14 day deadline. 

I’m going to be juggling ma Damian story with another story because I promised my friend I would write it for them. So if you see an update on my other story don’t think “oh she quit on this story to go write another story. Rip.” Nah, it’s just the two at the same time. 

Kinda lost my spark because of school and what not. I’ve been doing terrible in my English class and I just seem to be behind everyone in the class writing and reading wise. It’s pretty discouraging to see that you’re writing isn’t that good. But, I’m trying to push past that and write this story for all you guys looking forward for updates. 

Thank you so much everyone.


	18. Warmth

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Guys I’m extremely sorry that this took my so long to post. I hate this chapter because I feel like I wasn’t given enough time to put my all into it. I just can’t find time to write when I want to and it infuriates me and probably you guys aswell. The only promise I can make is not giving up on this story until it’s over. But I can’t guarantee any fast uploads. I’m squeezed for time between school work and life duties. I’m so sorry about all of this.

It had started to rain, small droplets padded their faces. The water was cold like ice, causing his flowerbed cheeks to wither away. Damian took his thumb to his eyelid and smeared the transparent eyeliner away. 

“Why here?” the boy asked in a low mummer. His father turned around after closing the car door, and a black bag trailed under his shoulders. 

“To get away,” the man replied in that cut and dry manner of his. The boy wanted to say more, but couldn’t find the courage to speak. He stayed silent as the cool beads blessed his face, irregular slouches colliding with his skin. 

His father walks into an old seemingly abandoned small building. It was a quaint restroom with dirty wooden panels that splintered and decayed by the teeth of time and termites. The walls were fleshed with withered moss and the porcelain scum on the side of the sink. There was only one stall, with a door that seemed almost unhinged.

Damian’s eyes wander for a moment. Before he could let out a breath, his father rushes him into the stall with clothing. 

There was a crack between the stall wall and the door, so he watched. He watched as his father slowly tore the clothing from his torso, and revealed a thin white under shirt that poorly concealed his scars. All the faded jagged lines, burns, and scratch marks painted on his disfigured back like the stories of cave drawings lost in the past, and cuts on his triceps like the exotic fur of a tiger. He imagined what it was like in the man’s childhood. Soft flesh, untouched by claws wielded by the world. Chiseled muscles sunken down, no longer, only smooth milky limbs, the delicateness of a child. How it was supposed to be. Damian bit his lip while watching them all disappear under a new sheet of cloth. It was like a time capsule or memory box close before his eyes.

“Damian,” the father calls.  
The boy changes with urgency, avoiding eye contact with the rose vines roping around the underbelly of his arm.   
“Yes.” 

“Finish up and come out.” 

The boy was quick to open the door and approached his father, bundled up. They did little, only standing.

~~~

Even as the cloth of darkness draped over the earth, the tears in the skin grew stronger. Damian lay on his back,limbs spread on the comforter of his bed, eyes drained of color in the cold deep blue sky peering through the curtains. 

A light stretched into his room from the heavenly wall lamps in the hallway. The door was quickly closed. The solidity of his body as he seemed to sink into his sheets stayed, while he listen to footsteps approaching his bedside. A figure settled its hand on the boy’s forehead, which was retaliated with an infirm swat. 

“Kiddo, you coming to eat dinner?” It was Dick whispering as his weight caused Damian’s legs to depress into mattress. 

“No.”

The response was absolute and listless. The young man raised his eyebrows. 

“Why not? Don’t tell me you’re getting sick of Alfred’s cooking.” 

Damian lifted himself up, reaching to slide the snails under his lengthy clothing, reaching to his bedside lamp. Light emanated the room leaving Dick to watch the peeling off of darkness upon the Robin’s face. 

“I’m not . . . peckish. . . at the moment,” he said. Dick studied how plain his face was, studying still life of a frozen tundra without trees, without sun. Only crows resting where his eyes and nose should be. 

Joy melted slowly off of the older males countenance to uneasiness. 

“You’re so pale. What happened to you?” Dick gasped and clutched the boy’s hands in his own. They were quickly seized back to their owner. 

“I would appreciate it... if I was left alone,” Damian whispered. 

Dick frowned and quickly countered his wish, his voice possessed a stern mellowness to it, “I won’t leave you here like this.” 

“It’s best if you do.” 

“Now why would I do that?” 

“There is nothing here for you,” the boy let out a hollow breath. 

“Of course there is something here. You’re here. That’s enough for me to stay,” Dick’s voice was gossamer, jovial. It was genuine. 

Damian pushed his lips together and let out a barely audible wheeze, “Okay. . . Do you think you can aid me with a school project?” 

The man took a moment to register the noises leaving the boy. 

“A school project? What’s it for?” 

The boy rolled out of bed and went for his school bag by the side of the bed. While kneeling down, Dick took time to closely examine him. His hair was messy, and their were dark peels with a purplish tint under his eyes. His skin was pale, truly pale. The only part of his paper skin was his face, and barely any exposure from his neck and fingers. His face crumpled in under his cheeks, a crease that went understandably unnoticed. He was wearing socks, baggy sweatpants, and a sweatshirt that was clearly too large on him. 

“It’s for history,” the boy responded, pulling his notebook and laptop out. Dick struggled to grin as Damian crawled back onto the sheets. 

He let the boy explain the assignment to him, telling him all the unimportant information he required to share with the class, telling him about the girl who was his partner, telling him she was nice, kind, agreeable, when he asked, telling him things until his voice grew quiet, telling him nothing at all. Dick couldn’t lie to himself, he was uncomfortable. The uneasiness that quaked up his spine as the boy typed slowly, like a pitch dripped from his nails, siding into the keys, sticking his fingers in place. It wasn’t natural, how dead he would move. 

“You meet any friends at school since you started?” Dick asked.

“Sure.” 

“Why don’t you ever invite them over to the manor?” 

The kid shrugged. 

Dick took a deep scoop of air into his lunges. He was hot, perturbed, upset, dour. He took his long arm and wrapped around the boy and held him close to his heart. The kid didn’t squirm, nor did he shout hellish protest. His head stayed buried under 

“What did you eat today.” 

Damian told him some things, and left out others.


	19. Author’s Note • { •

Ohhhh loll. Guess who injuries themselves. <3   
Kinda mad but. I think imma be wrapping up this story pretty soon. I was thinking this next chapter would be this huge long long long chapter to conclude everything.   
I know I’ve been gone for sooooo longggg!! Aahhhahahahhh life succs fr. It be taking my time away. 

But I have been working on the story. I feel like it’s a lil incomplete but I wanna give y’all what you want. 

After this story I want to move onto more things. 

Imma keep writing angsty sad stuff. I mean that’s the type of stuff that speaks to me, sad depressing feelings cuz life. 

I was thinking of some ideas for a bnha story with depressed Kacchan. Cuz I mean seeing myself suffer through characters is A 1. Plus that kid has some serious emotional problems. So if you’re interested in that stay tuned. 

I was also thinking of writing an AU flash story with Wally. If y’all like Wally in the DC universe. 

I also had this really crazy Idea with a AU justice league story. I think this one is one of the more messed up on. But so is the Wally one •_• ... the Wally one is freaky asf so yeh be warned. 

 

I wanna write stuff with multiple meanings and metaphors and symbolism and not just straight of fluff and porn and dry plot. I mean I’ll still include stuff like that when it’s time too because Ik a lot of people got some sexual frustration. But it has to be way more than just sex. Like I’m so tired of reading just sex in fanfic for sex sake. I want a good freakin story that got me reading like I won’t go to sleep until I finish the story. 

That’s why I’m trying best to write good stuff and not just bs everyone with some crap. Because I can definitely write a whole bunch of bull shit about Damian and be like here guys, here’s a chapter. I try so hard to write something with passion and life. It takes a lot of time to put stuff like that together, and then with that, time isn’t on my side. I want people to think about what I wrote and why I wrote something. I want all my words to have a purpose in driving the story or revealing something about the real world. 

 

I wanna say I still love you guys from the bottom of my heart for all of your support and love. LIKE OMG YALL COMMENT SO MUCH AND IT REALLY FREAKIN MAKES MY DAYYYYYYY!!!! AAAHAHAHHHH I LOVE YOU GUYYYSSSS!! I read all my comments, even tho I don’t reply to all of them cuz it’s just hard to find the time because there’s so many of you guys, I freakin enjoy the heck out of it allllll!! I hope you guys don’t give up on me because I tend to just disappear off the face of the earth. 

I don’t use social media like that, but I can give y’all an ig u can contact me on.   
@rasauq_

So if you wanna talk about anything. Story ideas or DC or whatever I’ll try my best to reply.   
Again I really freakin love you guys so much and hope as I continue my journey you stay for the ride. I probably could never write as much as I did without all of your support. SERIOUSLY

**Author's Note:**

> If anyone likes this, I'll probably keep writing.


End file.
